Silence
by Sera Femme
Summary: The story of two sisters starting life anew at Hadrian's Wall.
1. Chapter 1

Silence

Darkness was descending rapidly as the knights made their way back to Hadrian's Wall. They had escaped the Saxons, for now. Dagonet had walked away with the worst injuries, but with the warmth and sanctuary that the wall offered, he would likely make a rapid recovery.

They rode in relative silence. Those not too tired to speak awaiting the sound of the drums that could signal their death.

The first time the woman's screams reached them they though it imagined. Surely it was a trick of the wind or their over spent minds. At the second cry they wasted no time and spurred their mounts towards the panicked shrieks. As they topped a hill of the rural mountain pass they saw their quarry not far in the distance.

The first thing they noticed was the blood. Considerable amounts of someone's life's blood now seeped into the snow covered trail. A man lie dead, facing the sky. A small hand axe had been buried into his midsection and the wooden handle of a dagger peeked out from his thigh.

Two women stood, rooted to the spot. The older of the two crying and watching the knights with wary eyes. The younger, gazing at the corpse of the man, did not seem to notice their arrival. As the knights dismounted the older let go a soft whimper and stepped back slowly, panic writ clearly on her face.

Looking at the younger, Arthur was the first to speak. "You, what has happened here?"

Nothing.

Lancelot rolled his eyes in annoyance. Gawain, approaching the body of the man, knelt at his side to listen and look for any signs of life. He found none. Meanwhile, Tristan came forward slowly, cautiously edging his way towards the young woman.

"Again I ask, what has happened here," Arthur said as firmly as he dared.

At this, the woman blinked and finally looked up to meet his worried green eyes. She looked confused and turned to the other woman with a questioning look.

With the slight movement of her body Tristan noticed the second dagger, clutched in her small, blood coated hand. Without hesitation he drew his sword and held it level with the woman's throat.

"I'd drop that if I were you, girl," Tristan growled while nodding his head in the direction of the weapon.

The older gave a slight nod in agreement. Biting her lip and wrinkling her brow in confusion the younger dropped the dagger at Tristan's feet, eyeing him with suspicion.

Again, Arthur spoke "Explain yourself. Why have you killed this man?"

"She will not speak," the one with lighter hair whispered. "She can not speak. Not for a year now. Not since our father died."

"Then you shall speak for her," Arthur replied. "Why has she killed this man?"

"He attacked me, you see. We left our village three days ago on our way to Hadrian's Wall. He was some kind of drifter, a traveling man. Said he was headed there himself and asked if he could tag along. I didn't see the harm. Aside from his language he wasn't any bother 'til now. We stopped to rest and Meg there," she pointed to the younger of the two, "went to go find us water. That's when he changed. Said he'd been waiting to get me alone. Thankfully my sister came upon us. She saved me, Sir. She shouldn't be punished for that!"

Arthur watched the woman try to regain control of her emotions. Weather she trembled from the cold of nerves he was not certain.

"Tristan, stand down." Arthur commanded.

As the scout returned his sword to its sheath he noticed the slightest flicker of triumph in the woman Meg's eyes. It was brief, but it was there.

"I am Cait, by the way" the oldest said, addressing Arthur.

"Cait, I am Arthur Castus and these are the Sarmatian Knights. We will get you to Hadrian's Wall safely. You have my word," Arthur vowed.

Just then an awful, wet sputtering interrupted their introductions. The man they all assumed to be dead, lay gasping and panting, trying to sit upright. Gawain, who was the closest aided the man in his struggle as the small party looked on in shock.

Once he was partially upright and had caught his breath, the man pointed at Meg. Leaning on Gawain for support he let loose half a grin and spoke.

"I should have taken the dark haired one," he paused to catch his breath before continuing. " She can't scream."

In an instant Meg dove to the ground, scrambling for the discarded dagger. Before she could reach it she was picked up from behind by a very irritated Tristan.

"Watch it, girl," he commanded through clenched teeth.

With a single watery thud the sputtering and coughing was gone. Meg went still and as soon as Tristan loosened his grip she fell to her knees. Cait ran to her side.

Gazing across the trail she saw that the fiend was dead. An Outraged Gawain stood over the body, axe held firm and a look of fury marring his handsome features. In an instant the look was gone, replaced by one of self satisfaction. As he walked away from the body he spared a glance at the girls, giving Meg a conspiratorial wink. She couldn't help the slight twitch of a smile that followed.

While Meg found the act baffling it was also somewhat amusing. Cait on the other hand, was not amused. Cait was revolted and spent some minutes afterwards being sick behind a bush, Galahad taking it upon himself to hold her hair out of harm's way. Once she was done he helped her onto one of the pathetic pieces of horseflesh that belonged to her and her sister.

Meanwhile, Meg said on the trail a ways apart from the others. She had never killed a man before. She felt tainted. Grabbing fistfuls of snow she did her best to scrub the gore away. No matter how hard she worked at it she couldn't get his filth off of her. It would never come off, she mused.

"Time to go, little one," was the low growl behind her. Rising to her feet she watched the retreating form of Gawain.

The others were mounted, looks of impatience wore openly as everyone waited for her to mount her own horse.

Looking over to Cait she couldn't help but feel saddened. The journey to Hadrian's Wall was supposed to herald the start of a new life for the sisters. What sort of new beginning was this?


	2. Chapter 2

First and foremost, I would like to thank everyone for their reviews and adds. It really means a lot. In the past eight years I have not written anything more complex than a grocery list. While writing isn't my first choice when it comes to creative expression, it is something I enjoyed very much in the past. Bare with me! I am sure it will be a long and painful process getting back into the swing of it. Both for me and my readers ;)

Story wise, I have absolutely no idea where I am going with this. I will figure it out when I get there, I suppose. At this point it is safe to say that Cait will be paired with Galahad. As for Meg, she is being difficult. I am leaning towards Gawain or Tristan, solely based on the fact that they are my favorites to read about. Any suggestions are much appreciated!

The rest of Cait and Meg's journey to the wall was fairly uneventful. Although not used to traveling at the rapid pace the knights kept, they were inspired to double their efforts once Bors told them of the threat of following Saxons.

After a few hours in the saddle Cait's nerves were mostly settled. She felt guilty for letting the man travel with them. She had been silly to believe that a man's presence would keep them safe. Things could have turned out much worse. They had not and for that she was grateful.

Meg wasn't exactly sure how she should feel. One part of her felt ashamed. It troubled her greatly to know that by her doing one less person walked the Earth. The other part felt justified. Better him than Cait or her.

Riding next to Cait, Galahad decided he wasn't one for silence.

"Can I ask why you were traveling to the wall," he blurted out quickly, making Cait jump in surprise.

Without a moment's thought she smiled and gave a solid reply. "Change."

Galahad nodded attentively. It was a simple enough answer, but what of the details?

Sensing that the young knight was of a curious nature, she continued. "It's been a year's passed since our father died. A year since Meg last spoke. A fever is what did it," she paused, pulling her brown cloak tighter. "We managed alright for awhile. Meg started to take in as much sewing as she could get her hands on. I asked for more hours at the tavern. Then the place shut down and I was out of a job."

Again, she stopped her story and adjusted the thin cloak. Once done she scrunched her face thoughtfully for a moment, remembering the past.

"Unfortunately the wages earned by a seamstress with _very _poor talent are not enough to keep a roof over your head," she added while glancing back at her sister and smiling in an almost motherly way.

Meg returned the smile and shook her head knowingly. She had not heard their conversation, but she knew Cait. Cait only smiled at her like that for one or two reasons. She either felt sorry for her or she was making fun or her. By the way Galahad was avoiding all eye contact, she guessed the second to be correct.

"We really had no choice but to sell the house and Father's smithy," Cait continued. "It was for the best I think. I just wish we had chosen a better time to travel."

Galahad let out a short bark of laughter at the revelation, quickly covering his mouth and feigning a coughing fit.

"Its damn cold out here is it not," he added, trying to cover his tracks.

"Yes it is," was the reply, barely audible for being covered by a hand trying to mask a large smile.

Meg thought they would never reach the wall. Once they had she nearly wished they hadn't. Hadrian's Wall was large, cramped and noisy, three things Meg loathed.

Once the women had found a place to board their horses they set off looking for a place to board themselves. They couldn't afford much, but the lack of tenants around the wall recently worked to their advantage. For a very reasonable price Cait was able to secure a simple room not far from a small tavern they had passed on their way in. The straw mattress would barely be big enough for the both of them, but it was a start.

Heaving one of the large saddlebags that held their few belongings over her shoulder, Meg made her way to the narrow staircase that led to their room.

Without warning something large and flailing slammed into her from behind. Catching herself on the step in front of her she heard an annoyed moan from Cait at her back.

"Lovely!"

Meg arched a brow in her sister's direction and shook her head slowly. At times she wondered how Cait had ever survived tavern work. She was by far the clumsiest person she had ever come across.

"Great! I think I may have twisted it," Cait complained.

Before Meg could come to her now invalid sister's rescue, two familiar shouts of laughter caught her attention.

"You're supposed to rest in your room, not the staircase. You know this, right," Galahad said in a very serious tone.

Sweeping an eye rolling Cait into his arms and giving Meg a mischevious smile, he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Rolling her own eyes Meg struggled to adjust her saddle bag so that she could now carry Cait's as well. Suddenly the weight was lifted from her shoulder. Turning and looking up she now found herself staring at a smirking Gawain.

"After you, little one," he gestured towards the stairs.

Nodding, Meg bolted up the steps, wishing she could take them two at a time as Galahad did.

She entered their room to find Cait having her ankle examined by an all too eager Galahad. Meg suspected he had no idea at all what he was doing.

Heaving the women's belongings into the corner with a resounding thud, Gawain moved to the hearth and went about building a fire.

"I'd stay off of it for a few days," Galahad instructed as Cait's face contorted in a mix of pain and disappointment.

Within a few short minutes Cait was settled comfortably and Meg was pleased to see that the swelling was minimal.

"Ready then," Gawain bellowed to his friend from in front of the newly born flames.

"Well we're off. I am sure both of you are eager to rest. Stay off that ankle," Galahad said as he backed towards the door.

Gawain, moving to follow his friend, was taken aback when an apparently frustrated Meg stepped into his path. Looking to Cait she made some sort of gesture with her hands and then pointed at the knight before her.

A smiling Cait turned to the now confused man and spoke. "It means thank you."

Puzzled, but smiling, Gawain turned back to Meg. "How do you tell someone you're welcome?"

Staring at the floor she quickly showed him. After a short pause Meg watched in bewilderment as the large, boisterous man tried to communicate with her in her way.

Grinning in his triumph he quickly winked at the woman and turning on his heel, shoved past Galahad and disappeared down the staircase.

Shrugging at a flustered Meg, Galahad waved his goodbyes and followed suit.

After taking a moment to process what had just happened Meg turned to Cait. Cait was smiling at her little sister in a very motherly way.


	3. Chapter 3

Not long after Galahad and Gawain's departure, Cait was fast asleep. After unpacking their bags Meg found herself unable to keep still. She paced the floors for nearly an hour before her belly began to rumble. Not able to recall the last time they had eaten, she decided that a warm meal was in order. Nightfall was a good two hours off and she knew sleep would not come on an empty stomach. Wrapping a green shawl around her shoulders she set off for the tavern Cait had pointed out earlier.

Upon reaching the place, Meg ordered herself a heaping bowl of stew and an ale. Once settled at a small table she devoured the meal with gusto. As she had suspected the small supper worked wonders. Within minutes of finishing she found herself struggling to stifle back yawns. Rising from her chair, she stretched her stiff and tired muscles and then headed in the direction from which she had come.

It did not take long for Meg to discern she must have taken a wrong turn at some point. Shortly after this realization it began to rain. After a few more erroneous turns she decided to wait out the downpour in the entryway of a small shop. _Of course it would rain now, _she thought with annoyance.

By the time the deluge subsided it was nearly dark. Picking herself up and dusting bits of dirt from her dress, she set off in search of her room once more.

Spying a narrow alleyway that looked familiar, Meg quickened her pace and trotted in what she hoped was the right direction.

At the end of the alley she decided going right would be her best bet. Plowing her way around the sharp corner, Meg found herself slamming into a solid wall of flesh. The force sent her hurtling backwards and before regaining her balance she fell bottom first into a rather large puddle.

After the fall it took Meg a moment to regain her bearings. Once she had she noticed the large, calloused hand that had been offered. Gazing down the length of the arm she observed with mild disappointment that the hand belonged to Arthur's scout, Tristan.

Hesitating briefly, she pushed down her pride and placed her hand in his. With a sharp, unsympathetic tug she was pulled upright.

Fixing the scout with a wary scowl she was startled when she felt his slender finger touch her temple gently. Swiping away a large smudge of mud he detachedly wiped the filth on her sleeve. Straightening his stance, he looked around absent-mindedly.

"Lost, eh?" he questioned, making no attempt to mask the slight pleasure held in his voice.

Unable to look him in the eye, Meg studied the wet stones at their feet and nodded.

Moving behind the woman and grasping her by the shoulders, he turned her body to face the opposite direction that she had been traveling. Without releasing his grip he leaned in close to Meg's ear.

"There," he commanded with a nod of instruction. With that he gave her a slight shove towards the main thoroughfair. Stepping back, he crossed his arms and waited for her reaction.

Meg stood anchored to the spot for a moment. Grabbing fistfuls of her mud stained dress, she fough to control her temper. Then drawing herself to her full, but diminutive height, she marched off in the advised direction.

Tristan smirked as he watched her stomp off in a huff.

"Strange girl," he muttered under his breath as he continued on his way.

In no time at all Meg was able to locate her room. She was happy to see that Cait was still fast asleep.

As she crawled into bed next to her sleeping sister she couldn't help but smile.

_I wander if all Sarmatians are as odd as Arthur's knights. _That was Meg's final though before a long overdue slumber claimed her.

Cait was the first to wake the next morning. After quickly tidying herself up she headed out in search of breakfast. Before she had even reached the end of the passage their room was situated on she sensed that something was amiss.

After a bit of eavesdropping and nosing about she realized her initial fears were correct. The Saxons had arrived.

Wasting no time, she sped as swiftly as she could back to the room. She had to wake Meg and tell her the awful news.

Later in the afternoon Galahad stood surrounded by his fellow knights preparing for the upcoming fight. They hadn't traveled far from the wall before deciding to return and stand by their commander's side. A battle of their own choosing, as Lancelot had put it.

Adjusting his armor and inspecting his weapons thoroughly, Galahad found that his thoughts wandered to Cait as they had often over the past two days. Finishing his task, he made the decision to seek her out. Not knowing what he would say once he found her, Galahad mounted his horse and sped down the lines of the caravan.

After his second pass a sickly feeling settled into his gut. Spying Bors and his lover not far ahead, he turned his horse in their direction. Perhaps Vanora would know where he could find her.

"Vanora," he began "the women we brought in yesterday, Meg and Cait. Have you seen them?"

After glancing at Bors worridly the woman spoke. "I think they choose to stay behind, Galahad."

"They what," roared Gawain as he strode angrily towards his old friends.

"A few people stayed knowing their help would be needed after," she trailed off, distracted by the look of horror on Galahad's young face.

"Adventurous little things aren't they," Bors laughed before pulling Vanora close for a good-bye kiss.

Without answering, Galahad turned and walked back to his mount. Pushing down his feelings of anger and worry, he did his best to focus. There were more pressing matters at hand at the moment, namely the Saxons.

"Stupid woman," spat Gawain as he swung into his saddle. Gripping the reigns tightly, his blue eyes darkened with rage.

Ok so there you have Chapter 3. I am still not exactly sure who Meg should be paired with. That is why I added a bit of interaction with Tristan in this chapter. What do you guys think?

Again, a _huge _thank you to everyone for the feedback. You can't imagine how insanely thrilled I become every time I receive an email about this.


	4. Chapter 4

When Meg awoke that morning it was to a deafening crash as Cait stormed into their shared room. Rolling over, she burrowed herself further into the straw mattress.

"Wake up, Meg!" squawked Cait as she gave her sister a rude shake.

Pulling the covers high over her head, Meg squeezed her eyes shut tightly in an attempt to ignore the unwelcome attack.

Yanking the covers away completely, Cait all but screeched. "Out of bed you stubborn mule!" Kicking the mattress she stomped to the small table on the opposite side of the room.

Yawning, Meg rubbed her stinging eyes and made to rise. Walking to the dwindling fire, she paused after noticing her older sister's curious behavior.

Cait sat at the rough, wooden table with all of their money spread before her. Meg watched with concern as the woman counted the coins once and then once again.

"Balls!" she swore as she slammed her hands flat over the worn surface, sending a small amount of them flying to the floorboards. Leaning back in the chair with a sigh, Cait ran shaking hands through her tawny waves.

Crouching down slowly, Meg set to gathering the valuable mess. Watching the other woman with careful eyes she waited for an explanation.

Laughing bitterly, Cait shook her head. "As if we had anywhere to go anyhow."

Looking at her younger sister helplessly, she continued. "The Saxons have arrived. They're all leaving. The Romans, fort residents, why even Arthur's knights have run off."

At the mention of the knights, Cait watched as Meg smiled sadly, her eyes averted as she stared into the fading flames.

Rising slowly, Meg walked the short distance that separated them. Leaning down, she kissed her sister gently on the head and patted her shoulder reassuringly.

"I'm going to see what I can find out," Cait muttered and set off to do just that.

After a bit of investigating, Cait was relieved to learn that others were staying behind as well. By that afternoon she and Meg sat in a large room located in one of the fort's interior buildings. They were surrounded by others like themselves, those too stubborn to leave or unable.

As the hours dragged on Cait became more anxious. The place felt oppressive. A young woman sat in the center of the room trying unsuccessfully to quiet an inconsolable child. Two men near the corner bickered endlessly over the outcome of the ongoing battle. The muffled shouts of men and the slight ring of swords penetrated the thick stone walls.

Cait paced the floors, drumming a sporadic beat against her thigh. She watched begrudgingly as Meg sat calmly on a small bench against the far wall. As soon as they had entered the chamber she had taken the seat and had not moved since. It seemed to Cait as if she had given in to the unknown. She appeared eerily at peace as she sat, glancing occasionally at those around her.

Finally after a seemingly endless wait a thunderous knock came at the doors. The people inside quieted instantly. Shoving past the curious mob, Cait moved to her little sister's side. Taking her by the hand, they waited.

Before long a great, joyous roar was heard. Loudly releasing the breath she had been holding, Cait turned to meet her smiling sister's face.

"We're alright," she shouted excitedly. Yanking Meg into a tight hug she squealed with glee. "We're alright!"

Before long the two women made their way out into the fading daylight. Bringing her hand up to shield her eyes, Meg couldn't help but smile. A few hours ago she was not certain she would ever see the sun again. The bright rays warming her skin felt marvelous.

Not watching where she was going, Meg shortly found herself slamming into the back of a motionless Cait. The woman stood stone still, gaping at something in the distance. Meg noted with a bit of concern the unshed tears starting to well up in her sister's eyes.

Looking ahead, Meg struggled to comprehend what it was that would have startled Cait. Her efforts were shortly rewarded when she spied a familiar face headed their way.

"Cait!" the young knight called out as he jogged through the mass of bodies.

Turning to gage Cait's reaction, Meg was pleased to find her beaming.

"Galahad," she murmured breathlessly.

Skidding to a halt in front of the two women, Galahad only hesitated for a moment before sweeping Cait into a cheerful embrace. Hugging her to him tightly he showered her smiling face with kisses, coming to rest on her upturned lips.

"I thought you'd all gone," Cait whispered against his warm mouth.

Leaning back so as to look into her deep, brown eyes, Galahad responded. "We did," was the smiled reply.

Wrapping her in his arms, Galahad kissed her cheek affectionately before turning to Meg.

Meg stood, hands on hips, eying the two with mild amusement.

"Dagonet asked me to fetch you," he stated.

Arching a brow, quite bewildered,Meg looked to Cait.

"Meg? What on Earth would he want her for," Cait inquired.

Smiling impishly, the young man took Cait by the hand and nodded in the direction he had come from. "I'll show you."

The women struggled to keep up as Galahad led them to the other side of the fort. Topping a broad staircase they came to a large set of doors. Pushing them open, Galahad stepped back and motioned for the women to go in. Upon entering it was obvious where he had taken them. This was where they were treating the wounded.

Well there you have Chapter 4. It turned out a bit longer than I thought it would and was originally going to be with what is now Chapter 5. Again, a very large ' thank you' to those that are reviewing. You truly make my day! Hopefully I will have the next chapter up within a few days. I plan on more Gawain/Meg/Tristan. Perhaps even some Cait/Galahad lovin'. I just have to decide if Cait is that type of gal. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Entering behind the two gaping females, Galahad couldn't help but snicker. "Come along then," he urged. "Dag will be waiting."

With Galahad leading them through the maze of injured men and woman they shortly found themselves on the far side of the chamber. Dagonet sat with his back to them as he did his best to tend to a reluctantly cooperative Tristan.

"Found her," Galahad stated as he plopped down on the small bed next to the scout's. Patting the empty spot at his side, he smiled warmly as Cait quickly took the offered seat.

Twirling her fingers nervously behind her back, Meg stood fidgeting. Anxiously she waited for someone to clarify the reason for her summons. The room became stifling as more injured entered and waited for their turn to be treated. The smell of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air and she wondered if she would pass out from the awful stench.

Holding up one finger, Dagonet murmured over his shoulder, "One moment."

Raising her eyes at being addressed, Meg regretted the act in and instant. Arthur's trusted scout sat propped upright as his fellow knight carefully wound a length of cloth around his midsection. As brown eyes bore into hazel, she felt her stomach leap into her throat. Returning her attention to Dagonet's turned back she tried desperately to shake off her feelings of unease.

Finishing the task of bandaging his wounded friend, Dagonet finally turned his attention to the young woman behind him.

"Meg," he spoke gently." I hear you sew. Is this correct?"

Snapping her head in Cait's direction ,Meg sent her a pleading look at the realization of why she was here. Looking to Dagonet and letting out and uncontrolled snort, Cait balked. "She sews dressed, Dagonet. Not men."

Smiling and shaking his head in understanding the large man turned his attention back to Meg and spoke. "That will do."

At that, Meg opened her mouth slightly as if to protest. Turning her attention from the group she surveyed her surroundings. So many brave people had been injured that day. Then wrinkling her brow and pressing her lips together firmly, she nodded once to confirm her willingness to accept the situation.

Smiling broadly at Meg, Dagonet motioned for her to follow him. "Let us put you to work then." It seemed to Meg she had no choice but to pursue him obediently and so she did.

Rising from his seat, Galahad held out his hand in an offer to help Cait to her feet. Gripping his arm tightly, Cait grinned widely as she was pulled gently upright. "We'll let you rest then," he said, addressing Tristan. Turning to the woman next to him he spoke again. "Come. I have something for you!"

Turning to wish a quick farewell and speedy recovery to the man laying in the bed at her side, Cait quickly lost her train of thought. She observed with great distress that the scout's attention was wholly consumed by something across the room. The cause of his diversion was none other than her very own sister.

* * *

Meg stood listening attentively as Dagonet showed her where the different supplies she may need were housed. He had already gone over the basics of the differences between the mending of flesh and that of cloth. Once he was confidant she had absorbed the needed information he placed his large hand on her slumped shoulder. Giving a slight squeeze of encouragement, he spoke confidently," Now to your first patient."

Placing everything she would need inside a scrap of cloth, Dagonet handed the woman the bundle and strode away. Quickly if not a bit apprehensively, Meg followed behind.

"Vanora has already cleaned the wound as best she could," he explained as they walked. "Nothing serious, just an arrow."

As they got nearer to the far corner, Meg recognized the woman they called Vanora. She had met her briefly at the tavern her first night at the wall. Standing next to the woman with his back turned to their approach she saw the intimidating form of Bors. Meg's heart leapt knowing that he would be the first she tended. While she didn't know him well she had already come to the conclusion that he was a good natured man and he would most likely be halfway patient with her.

Sensing their advance, the burly knight turned and smiled. "Don't break him then, love," he boomed jokingly as he stepped to the side revealing Meg's actual patient. With a loud slap, Vanora smacked him in the gut as she chastised him under her breath. Smiling apologetically to Meg she grabbed her lover by the arm and led him away quickly so the other woman could get to work.

Turning to face the man now in her care, Meg observed the slouching figure of Gawain. He sat with his side to her on a low wooden stool. His armor and tunic removed, He held a ragged piece of cloth against the side of his chest. He looked to be arguing with Dagonet.

_Wonderful, _Meg though. _I haven't even done anything yet and the injured already fear me._

Looking up sharply she realized Dagonet had returned to her side. "Alright then, I leave you to it. If you have any trouble or," raising his voice he added, "_he_ gives you any trouble, you let me know. I will be over there checking up on things." He pointed a few rows over to where Arthur and the Woad woman Guinevere sat keeping vigil over an unconscience Lancelot.

Nodding quickly, Meg expressed her understanding. Satisfied that she was capable of the task he had set before her, Dagonet took his leave.

Closing the short distance that separated her from Gawain, Meg knelt at his side slowly. After setting out the supplies Dagonet had given her in an easily accessible manner she went about her work cautiously. Reaching up carefully with both hands, she removed Gawain's hand from the make shift bandage while holding it in place. She watched nervously as the knight clenched his jaw tighter and continued to stare intently at the floorboards.

"You stayed," he stated suddenly, causing Meg to jump slightly.

Knowing it had not been a question, Meg nodded anyhow as she slowly peeled the cloth from his wound.

" Are you completely witless or just mad," he growled harshly as he finally raised his eyes to look at her.

Ignoring his stern tone and expression, Meg went about preparing to close his injury. Once again the room had become too hot. Swollen locks of her dark hair clung to her now flushed face. Biting her lip she fought to still her shaking hands and nerves.

Gawain watched the woman intently. He was furious as he observed her cool disdain. She appeared completely aloof as she focused her attention on the deep laceration. It wasn't until she was about to begin that he looked to her small hands.

"You're the one with the needle, little one. If anyone should be trembling it should be me," he stated as he continued watching her closely.

There was a momentary flash of conflict in her eyes and then a sharp pain in Gawain's side. Meg pretended not to notice when he narrowed his eyes dangerously. She continued her task as carefully and as efficiently as she could with him glaring at her all the while.

Turning her head as a short yell sounded from across the room, Meg wrinkled her brow in annoyance as a strand of hair fell into her eyes. Placing a fresh bandage over the newly closed wound she grabbed the knight's rough hand and pressed it over the dressing. Then winding a length of cloth around his body to hold it in place she released her grip. After tearing a small swatch of cloth she went to tying it to hold her work in place.

Reaching down slowly, Gawain touched her brow thoughtfully. Meg froze and snapped her gaze upward, meeting his instantly. Sweeping the stray strands to the side, he gently tucked them behind her ear. He knew he should have stopped then, but it was as if his hand now moved of its own accord. Maybe it was something in her eyes that made him unable to pull back. Unhurried, he trailed his thumb over her glowing cheek down to her delicate jaw. Lowering his eyes to her soft lips he noted with satisfaction that they trembled slightly. _Just one kiss, _he thought. _What could it hurt?_

Suddenly a loud crash sounded from a few beds down making Meg jump as if she had been burned. Swearing under his breath, Gawain watched helplessly as Meg scurried off to investigate the disturbance.

* * *

Shortly after his study of the girl began, Tristan's survey was interrupted as the bulky form of Bors moved into his line of sight. They had spoken for some time of the day's battle before Vanora had pried him away to help her tend to their ever growing horde of children. It hadn't taken him long to spot her in the corner tending to his brother knight.

He had been unnerved at the flame of anger that sparked as he watched the man caress her blushing face tenderly. Disgusted he had thought that Gawain was just as bad as Lancelot at times. Noting the blatant desire on the other man's face as he stared longingly at the girl's supple mouth, he had reacted without thinking. Dropping his cup with needless force he had watched the result of the commotion with great enjoyment. He refused to sit by and watch as Gawain toyed with her. She was better than that. The thought of her becoming someone's idle plaything did not please him.

Now he watched studiously as she crouched at his bedside. Carefully placing the shards in a neat pile, she purposefully rubbed a frayed cloth across the worm planks to adsorb the liquid mess. With each forward movement a small hint of cleavage came into his view. Averting his gaze and swallowing hard, Tristan closed his eyes in search of peaceful repose. _This one will be trouble, _he thought with dread as sleep finally befell him.

* * *

As Gawain moved to the exit he balled his fists in anger. It was obvious to him what Tristan had done. The scout was not known for being clumsy, injured or not. He had also done very little to mask the growing lust in his eyes as he had watched her sop up his spill. It hadn't been until that moment that Gawain had even thought of the possibility that anyone else at Hadrian's Wall would take an interest in his little Meg.

* * *

So there is Chapter 5. I hope you all enjoyed reading it. As you can probably see, I am still totally lost when it comes to Meg and the knights. It seems like every time I think on it I change my mind again. I guess I am still trying to work out what she needs and what interest both men have in her. At this point I may just end up leaving her fate up to my dear readers! Speaking of, love you guys! The feed back and suggestions mean so much. Until my next chapter then ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Gripping Galahad's hand tightly, Cait let the young knight lead her through the dark corridors of the fortress silently. Unlocking a thick wooden door, he smiled and motioned for her to enter. After taking a moment to survey the small room and its meager furnishings, Cait concluded that he had taken her to his private quarters. Leading her to a small bed against the wall, he had her sit and then grinned excitedly.

"Now close your eyes," he urged.

Following a slightly confused look and then a suspicious smile, she did as instructed. Waving his hands quickly in the air over his head, he tried to determine if she was peeking. Satisfied that she was not, Galahad ran his fingers through his hair while letting out a large puff of air. Looking around the room momentarily, he strode to a small table near the hearth. After a bit of rummaging through the mass of scattered weapons and parchment he spied his prize. Returning to Cait's side, he quietly perched himself next to her.

"Give me your hand," was his whispered command.

Holding out her hand in the direction of his voice, Cait waited eagerly for the mystery of this strange trip to be revealed. Turning her wrist skyward, Galahad placed the secret gift in her palm gently before speaking. "Alright. You can look."

Slowly opening her eyes, Cait lowered her gaze to the offered present. Raising her brow in surprise she looked back to the man quite perplexed.

"An arrow," she questioned.

"Yes, an arrow," he beamed. Seeing his explanation had done nothing to clarify matters he continued. "Not just any arrow. A _Saxon _arrow."

After staring at the man, still confused, for quite some time, she repeated, "An arrow."

Lowering his eyes, Galahad cocked his head to the side and smiled unpleasantly. "An arrow. I thought you would like it. Sort of a way to remember out first great adventure together. It was stupid of me. An arrow," he ground out bitterly.

Moving to snatch the gift back, hoping to quell his embarrassment, he stopped short. Cait now sat smiling fondly down at the length of wood and feather.

"An arrow," she giggled to herself. "Our _first_ great adventure," was the shy inquiry after a lengthy pause.

Grinning from ear to ear, Galahad shook his head uncertainly. "It may be a bit presumptuous, but I'd like to think of it as that."

Setting her thoughtful gift to the side,Cait turned her attentions back to the man before her. Leaning in slowly, she smiled. "An arrow," she chuckled quietly before molding her lips to his.

After taking a moment to become accustomed to her boldness, Galahad returned the kiss gladly. They then spent some time exploring each other's mouths with great enthusiasm.

* * *

Wiping the small beads of sweat from her brow, Meg looked around the room wearily. In the hours since Dagonet had put her to work she had treated more injured people then it was possible to keep track of. For the time being things were quiet. They had done all that could be done for most. Now it was just a matter of waiting. Waiting to see who was strong enough to recover and who was not. Rubbing the kink that had formed him her neck, she decided a turn about the room would help to keep her awake.

Walking quietly down the rows of sickbeds, Meg found herself unexplainably drawn to one in particular. Tristan's. Standing at his side she scrutinized his sleeping form freely. Laying there completely vulnerable he didn't seem nearly as menacing as when he was conscience. The customary scowl she had began to become accustomed to was replaced by a look of peace.

Looking to the small, rickety table at the man's bedside, Meg noticed an empty cup that had been forgotten in the evening's chaos. Grabbing the small piece of pottery, she turned to take her leave when without warning the scout grabbed her tiny wrist painfully.

Spinning awkwardly to face her captor, Meg stumbled, just catching herself on the edge of his bed. Wincing inwardly, she stared lamely at the slender fingers as they pressed into her flesh. Tightening his grasp cruelly he gave her no choice but to meet his eyes. The routine scowl had returned. He stared at her for some time before slackening his vice like grip. Meg watched shakily as something in his cold gaze was altered.

The assault ended as quickly as it had begun when Tristan suddenly released her. Scrambling to her feet, Meg rubbed her wrist irritably, the cup now forgotten. Turning her attention to the man she waited for an explanation for his actions.

"You should sleep," he stated gruffly as he watched her vainly attempt to soothe the aching in her wrist.

Narrowing her eyes in confusion, she gave a single nod before turning to leave.

"Meg."

Turning at his call she waited with bated breath for him to continue. Nodding in the direction of her injury he carried on. "I'm sorry."

Looking everywhere but his eyes she stood stricken. Then snatching the cup from the floor she walked away without acknowledging he had spoken at all.

* * *

As Cait lay sleepily staring at the ceiling above her, she tried to recount the events that had led to her current position. It had all began so innocently. A simple kiss to express her happiness and gratitude. As Galahad brought shaking hands up to circle her waist, she had been surprised at the feelings brought forth. It felt right. When one of those hands had traveled slowly down the curve of her hip and later moved to lift her skirts a different feeling entirely had surfaced. Fear.

Grabbing Galahad's hand tightly and breaking their kiss she had struggled with the urge to flee. It had pained her greatly to watch as shame and uncertainty graced his features.

"I'm sorry. I thought," he trailed off then at a loss for words.

Squeezing his hand gently, Cait had finally broken the silence. "Galahad, do you, I mean could you," she paused. Unable to find the right words she blurted out, "Could you care for me? Truly?"

He had stared at her for an unbearable amount of time after the query. With each second that passed her embarrassment had grown ten fold. She thought her heart would crumble completely when he had laughed at her.

"Cait, are you serious," he had asked through his snickering.

When unshed tears had began to well up in her large brown eyes, all laughter had ceased. Taking her face gently in both hands he looked at her seriously. "An arrow," was all he said.

Perhaps it was silly that those two simple words had such an effect. Those two perfect words had instantly made everything right.

Laying there now in his bed she couldn't control the small smile that crept across her face. Remembering the shocked look the knight had sported when she had taken his hand from her cheek and replaced it on her thigh, the smile deepened.

Everything had been perfect. It was exactly as she had always imagined her first time would be. Galahad had been patient and gentle. Perfect. She was certain that the man cared for her and would never do anything to purposely harm her. She was also certain that with each passing moment her feelings for him grew. Of that she would never be ashamed.

As the first bright beams signaling dawns approach broke through the high window, Cait groaned. Rolling over and tossing a large arm over the woman's named waist, Galahad pulled her closer. Slowly opening one eye and then the other, he grinned boyishly as he peered at her through his dark and unruly curls.

"Good morning you," he mumbled sleepily.

Rolling to her side, Cait yawned her reply. "Good morning yourself." Sitting upright suddenly, wild eyed, her hand clamped over her mouth. "Oh no! Meg." Scrambling over the confused man, she threw her dress over her head hurriedly. Searching frantically through the mess of discarded clothes she cursed loudly.

Reaching down to the tangled covers at the foot of the bed, Galahad retrieved a stray shoe. "Looking for this," he asked mockingly as he dangled the thing in front of her.

Grasping for it wildly, Cait let out an annoyed groan as he yanked it out of her reach. Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her onto his lap roughly, capturing her lips with his simultaneously.

Galahad was pleasantly surprised when she deepened the kiss considerably and wiggled atop him suggestively. That was until he realized the cause of the wiggling. Slowly, but steadily she moved her hand up his outstretched arm in pursuit of her misplaced shoe. Tossing the distraction across the room, he broke the kiss and did his best to appear innocent.

Smiling widely, Cait patted his bearded cheek before rising to her feet. "I have to go, Galahad. Meg will be worried sick if she wakes up and realizes I've been gone all night."

Groaning loudly, Galahad flopped back on the mattress in defeat.

After quickly making herself presentable, Cait returned to the bed. Rising slowly and pulling one of the blankets around his waist, Galahad reluctantly escorted her to the door. After Cait had promised to seek him out later in the day they gently kissed their good-byes.

* * *

Tip-toeing her way quietly down the dim corridor, Cait nearly screamed as a nearby door was flung open suddenly.

Peeking his head out into the hallway, Gawain rubbed his eyes sleepily before he looked her up and down with unmasked amusement. Nodding his head in greeting he cried, "Good morning, Cait."

"Morning Gawain," she called back a bit too loudly. Laughing nervously she sent him a shaky smile before prying herself from the wall and continuing on her way.

Looking down the hall to Galahad's room, the knight laughed heartily before slamming his door and stumbling back to his warm bed.

* * *

Turning the doorknob carefully and slowly pushing the door inwards, Cait grimaced as a high pitched squeak was sounded. Giving up all hope of an unnoticed entry, she pushed the door open and stepped inside swiftly.

Meg sat curled up in their only chair near the fireside. Glancing over her shoulder momentarily, she went back to sipping the warm liquid her in her mug.

Sighing heavily, Cait sat on the mattress and went to explaining. "It isn't how it seems, you know. Maybe if you ever had any sort of interest in a man you would be more understanding." Cursing herself for being so unkind without reason, she continued. "I care for him, Meg! He makes me happy. Don't you remember what it felt like? Being happy."

Setting her feet to the floor, Meg finally turned to look at her sister. While Cait had expected many emotions to pass over the woman's pale face she never expected to see what she faced then. Meg was smiling. It was definitely teasing. Maybe even a bit mocking, but it was a smile none the less.

Tossing a pillow at her sister's head, which she promptly dodged, Cait began to giggle. At this, Meg rolled her eyes and shaking her head, went back to her chair and her warm breakfast. Catching the eye roll, Cait responded childishly, "Oh, shut up!"

* * *

So there you have Chapter 6! I went ahead and decided that Cait _is_ that kind of gal. I hope that goes over well. I really don't see her as being promiscuous, but I think Galahad brought it out in her. I think the woman deserved a bit of light hearted fun.

I'm probably 75% certain on who Meg will end up with, but that won't be revealed for a couple of more chapters yet. I think she needs some time to get used to her new surroundings before she falls for anyone. At this point I think she is just thoroughly confused by both Tristan and Gawain.

Hating to disappoint, I am already thinking about writing another story to pair up the one who doesn't get the girl. It will probably also be a Dag/OC or Lancelot/OC. I haven't decided yet. I'm also trying to decide if that should be a stand alone story or if I should have Meg and Cait pop up occasionally.

A HUGE thank you to everyone for reviewing, reading and adding. It really brightens my day. As always, any comments and suggestions are greatly appreciated. I love hearing from all of you!

Until Chapter 7. -Sera


	7. Chapter 7

Months had passed since the great battle on Badon Hill. With the changing of seasons came changes to both Cait and Meg's lives.

Shortly after the battle, both had found work easily. Cait having made friends with Vanora quickly, got a job working at the tavern. Meg's experience with sewing came in handy when a position opened in the fort's laundry. The pay was poor and the hours long, but she much preferred the mending of clothing to that of knights.

The largest and most surprising event to take place was the marriage of Cait to Galahad. Everyone had been beyond shocked when news of the couples secret nuptials surfaced. Perhaps it was the romantic atmosphere created by Arthur's marriage to Guinevere that inspired them. Whatever the case, they were now happily wed and thrilled to be starting a new life together.

* * *

As Cait walked through the crowded marketplace, she was pleasantly surprised when she spied a familiar face in the crowd. Navigating her way through the throng of busy shoppers, she approached a cart piled high with furs and sections of tanned leather.

"Hello, Griffin," she called in greeting to the handsome woodsman. "Your hunts have been fruitful I see."

Setting down the small pelt he had been folding, he smiled warmly as he walked around his cart to meet her. "Very fruitful indeed. How are you Cait?"

"I've been wonderful," she stated truthfully, a small smile revealing her honesty.

"Good to hear," he replied as he shoved long raven locks out of his eyes. Looking down a few stalls, he nodded in the direction. "The dark haired girl there. She is your sister, yes? Meg if I recall correctly."

Turning to where he looked, Cait smiled and confirmed the hunter's suspicions. Her younger sister stood not far away, pining over a length of green ribbon that she could not afford. "Yes, that is Meg."

After watching her for a few more moments, Griffin turned his attention back to Cait. "She is quite cute. Shame about her losing her voice."

Looking down sadly, Cait toed a small rock half buried in the dirt. "Yes it is."

Realizing his words had upset the woman, he reached into his cart and pulled out a handsome rabbit fur. Holding it out in a peace offering, he changed the subject. "Here. A wedding present."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Cait stammered, eying the thing sheepishly.

"I insist! It's not everyday a woman makes a happy match." Pressing the hide into her basket, he smiled genuinely. "Well I best get back to work. Have to earn a living."

After thanking him for the kind gesture, Cait continued her shopping happily. All sorts of wonderful possibilities filling her head suddenly.

* * *

The afternoon following Cait's interesting market excursion, she decided to spend time with her sister. They had not been together much since her stealthy wedding. Meg having the entire day off for once would give them the ideal opportunity to catch up. Grabbing a couple of baskets they had set off for the forest on a berry hunt. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. A near perfect day.

Once crossing through the last gate of the outer wall, Meg glanced sideways to Cait.

"No," Cait shouted. She watched as the other woman produced a few pins and started using them to hold her hair up. She grew more agitated when Meg tucked her basket under her arm securely.

"Meg! Don't. Besides, you know you always lose." Cait sighed loudly. That last little taunt had just sealed her fate.

Meg paused for a moment and considered her sister's words. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she looked to the distant trees. _Not that far off,_ she thought. Then tossing her basket at Cait's chest, she hiked up her dress by the fistful and sped away as fast as her legs would carry her.

Fumbling with the baskets and cursing loudly, Cait took off after her. "You cheater," she laughed as she quickly started to catch up.

Before long Meg's pins were scattered in the wind. Peering through a mess of tangles, she realized she would shortly be passed. Upping her efforts ultimately did no good. Just before entering the quiet of the woods, Cait took the lead. A delighted shriek signaling her triumph.

Shoving the second basket into Meg's hands, Cait laughed. "You'll never give up will you?"

Smiling smugly, Meg shook her head. _Never._

After a few minutes of searching, they had found a suitable spot to go about their task. Dropping her basket, Meg crumpled to the leaves in exhaustion. Rolling to her back, she closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath.

"Hey. You're here to work, lazy bones," Cait scolded as she tossed the forgotten basket to Meg's side. Opening one eye lazily, Meg waved a hand in the air dismissively before closing it again.

"And you wonder why you always lose," Cait muttered as she tossed the first few berries into her basket. Her bait having worked, Meg shortly joined her in the tedious labor.

For some time they say quietly enjoying their work, eating more than was put in their baskets. Not able to stand the silence for very long, Cait set about catching up with her sister.

Using a mix of hand gestures and pictures drawn in the sand, Meg did her best to communicate what she had been up to. Cait told Meg of all the interesting people she had met during her hours working the tavern. Just as she was about to mention one interesting person in particular, their conversation was interrupted by the distant snapping of a twig. Both froze instantly.

Rising to her knees, Meg reached into her boot for a small dagger she always carried. As she struggled internally with the decision to fight or flee, should danger present itself, a sharp and familiar bark of laughter was heard.

Snorting loudly and rising to her feet, Cait laughed off her fears. "They must be back from their hunt," she stated happily as she walked past Meg.

Returning the dagger, Meg turned to see the approaching figures of two knights. _Wonderful, _she thought with annoyance. After straightening her dress hurriedly, she turned her attention back to the berries before her.

Throwing her arms around Galahad's neck, Cait looked down at the bundle of measly fowl. "Is that is," she asked, trying not to giggle.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he nodded in the direction of the other man. "At least I faired better than poor Gawain."

After adjusting the bow thrown over his shoulder, Gawain held up the small rabbit shamefully. "Shut it," he grumbled. Tossing it to the greatly amused woman, he looked in the direction she was leading them. The direction of Meg.

"Ah...thank you, Gawain. How charming. Meg, look at the gift Gawain has given me." Holding the thing out for inspection, Cait smiled impishly.

Scanning the pitiful thing quickly, Meg looked to Gawain who rolled his eyes angrily. Slowly a smile came to her eyes, then her lips. Looking back to the berries, the smile grew until it had taken over her entire face. Shaking her head, Meg tried to focus.

_So she does smile, _Gawain thought happily.

"What are you doing out here then? I thought you would be at work," Galahad said, addressing his wife. Wiping sticky fingers on the front of her skirts, she paled.

"Work! Oh no. I lost track of the time. Vanora will murder me if I am late again," Cait groaned.

"We will walk you back. Don't forget your beast then," Galahad chuckled, earning a glare from his fellow knight.

Picking up her cloak, Cait walked to Meg and kissed her on the cheek. "See you later, cheater."

Not taking her attention from her work, she waved a hand lazily in the direction of the groups retreat.

As they neared the tree line, Gawain struggled with the urge to turn back. He had seen very little of Meg since Arthur's wedding. All of the knights had been busy training new recruits and Meg seemed to purposefully avoid places like the tavern. He _had_ made her smile. What a pretty smile it had been. _Perhaps I can make her blush as well, _he grinned to himself. Making up his mind, he turned around slowly and marched back in the direction they had come from. Galahad and Cait being too caught up in each other to take any notice.

Grabbing her basket and rising, Meg jumped when she noticed the man reappear. In her fright, her grip on the thing loosened and it tumbled to the forest floor. Rolling the few feet that separated them, it came to a stop at the knight's boots. Half of its contents were lost on the journey.

She watched attentively as he reached down to retrieve it. Leaning against the tree at his back, Gawain held the basket at arms length and waited.

After a seconds confusion, Meg placed her hands on her hips, appalled. _That lecher wants me to fetch it from him. _Once she had enough of glaring at his smirking face she chose to yield. What sense was there in playing a game one would surely lose?

Approaching hesitantly, she grabbed the edge and gave a gentle pull only to find he was not ready to surrender it just yet. Watching her reaction intently, Gawain noticed a fire had sparked in her eyes. Reaching down he quickly picked a small leaf from the tangled mess that was her hair. Then releasing his grip, he chuckled quietly as she stormed back to the berries, obviously flustered.

"You ruffle too easily, little one," he stated. Pushing off the tree, he followed her back to the bush. Then crouching at her side, went to watching her re-fill the basket.

As she turned slightly to drop in another handful, Gawain noticed the smallest of freckles located on her collarbone. Small as it was, it stood out boldly against her fair skin. Suddenly he was hit with a near uncontrollable urge to kiss her there.

Picking delicately through the thorns and leaves, Meg struggled to keep her calm. She knew he was toying with her.

Leaning in slowly, Gawain paused as she turned her head to face him. Nodding to the berries at her knees, he spoke. "Mind if I try one?"

Shaking her head, she returned her gaze forward. Reaching into the basket she picked out a single, yet particularly large and juicy berry. Then holding it out in his direction absent-minded, she looked for more to pick.

Never one to pass up such opportunities, Gawain grabbed her wrist with cat like speed. Snapping her face in his direction, Meg waited breathlessly for his next move.

Bringing his mouth down quickly, the knight gently plucked the fruit from her shaking grasp, his warm tongue brushing gently across her index finger.

Overcome with conflicting emotions, Meg watched steadily as he enjoyed the treat. She was unnerved by the fact that she was unable to look away from his mouth. He had nearly kissed her once. At least she thought he meant to. _Had he meant to?_

The spell was broken abruptly when he finally decided to speak. "Sweet."

Stroking his thumb gently across the inside of her wrist, his face hardened as a blush crept across Meg's.

"And you, little Meg. Are you sweet as well," he growled lowly.

Without warning a noisy commotion was sounded close by. An out of breath Galahad came bounding from the trees, struggling for air. Resting his hands on his knees he watched speechlessly as Meg yanked her wrist from of Gawain's hand.

Scrambling around momentarily, she gathered her discarded shawl and basket and sped from the spot in a hurry.

Pointing to the basket in the brush, Galahad panted. "Cait...forgot..." Realization setting in he looked after the retreating Meg and then back to a blatantly irritated Gawain.

"Not one single word, Galahad," Gawain ordered as he pointed at the other man threateningly.

Laughing as he caught his breath, Galahad shrugged. "What?"

* * *

-Finally chapter 7. It was a bit of a pain at times, but so much fun to write! Hopefully it was fun to read as well.

I am not sure if I will be updating once a week like I have been. There is the mess that is the holidays. I am also having surgery on Friday. Hopefully I will just get to sit around and write for a few days. Then again I may not feel up to that at all. Or maybe my being on pain pills will result in something inspirational. We'll just have to see.

So then, what do you all think? I am dying to know ;)

-Sera Femme


	8. Chapter 8

Dismounting stiffly, Tristan groaned slightly as his muscles screamed in protest. He had been on patrol for days after Arthur had heard rumors of renegade Woad tribes raiding villages in the North. It seemed that the rumors were exactly that, rumors. After nearly a week of searching- he, Lancelot and Bors had found nothing to support the tales. Dusting the road dust from his sleeves, he paused as he noticed Meg come stumbling in through the nearest gate.

Staggering across the courtyard, she looked a total wreck. She looked...wild. Small leaves clung to knots in her dark hair and sporadic streaks of mud stained the hem of her dress. If not for the awful scowl she wore, Tristan considered that she would have appeared very attractive in his eyes. Pulling harshly at the green shawl that was tangled around her left arm, she glanced angrily over her shoulder at the two men that followed closely behind. As she stomped in the direction of her room she left a small trail of spilled berries in her wake.

Turning to lead his horse towards the nearby stable, Tristan noted the entertained look on Galahad's face and the plainly troubled one on Gawain's. _Perhaps she doesn't need protecting from the likes of him after all,_he thought with no small amount of pleasure as he continued on his way. He was exhausted and still had to make his report to Arthur. Now was not the time to think over peculiar girls.

* * *

Scrubbing harshly at the scarred surface that was the knight's regular table, Cait was completely lost in thought. It was not until her husband leaned into her line of sight that she even noticed he had been speaking to her at all.

"What," she asked as she was startled from her reverie.

"Sit woman! You'll spill my ale trying to scrub a hole in this thing," he requested while shoving another mouthful of pie into his face.

"Sorry. I was just thinking," she trailed off as a tiny smile graced her flushed face. Plopping down in the chair opposite him, a dreamy look appeared in her large brown eyes.

Grinning widely, Galahad winked at her knowingly. "Thinking about this morning then were you?"

Smacking her wet rag in his direction in mock outrage, Cait continued. "I was thinking about Meg."

Raising his brow as he wiped the last bits of sticky fruit from his mouth, he asked surprised, "Meg? What about her?"

"I _think_ she may have an admirer," she replied happily, unable to contain the glee in her voice that was evident as she spoke the words.

As he shoved his plate of crumbs to the side, he smiled back at her, not surprised at all. "I happen to _know_ she does."

"You do! How on Earth did you guess? I had not suspected it at all until yesterday afternoon. Do you really think he likes her? How wonderful it would be! I think it would be good for her. He is quite a catch. Handsome, kind _and_ he is making his own way in the world. Do you think she could care for him as well? I am sure she would love the sea!" Pausing to catch her breath, Cait stared at Galahad with an excited look in her eyes. As she noticed the confused look he now wore she wrinkled her brow in annoyance. "Well say _something_!"

Snapping his gaping mouth shut and cocking his head to the side bewildered, Galahad asked slowly, "the sea?"

"Yes. That is where he is from, is it not?"

"Uh. Exactly who is it you mean, Cait," he asked as he realized they were not speaking of the same man.

"Griffin of course," she stated as if it should have been plain as day.

If she had not been so head over heels for the man she could have slapped him soundly when he let loose his thunderous laughter. Crossing her arms across her chest, she waited impatiently for his little outburst to subside.

"Griffin! You mean that arrogant looking thing with the cart of dead animals? The Griffin who travels here for market days? Honestly," he barked through his chuckling.

"Yes," she stated flatly as she watched him take a large swig of ale that was promptly coughed back up in his animated display of shock. Twirling her rag loosely around her finger, Cait paused as she too realized they spoke of different men. "Who did you mean Galahad? Who else has a crush on Meg?"

"Gawain of course," he snorted. Resting his elbows on the table, he waited for her to react to the revelation.

"Gawain! No. That will not happen," she cried in disgust. "He is a rogue. Why the stories I have heard working here! From what I have gathered, Gawain only cares about two things: killing and bedding wenches. I will _not_ see my sister corrupted by that seducer"

Reaching across the table, Galahad yanked the tattered piece of cloth she had been wringing in her hands away, demanding her attention. "Gawain is a good man, Cait. He has been like a brother to me. People change you know. Besides, some would have said the same of me before I married you."

Huffing her disapproval, Cait stood and yanked her cleaning rag back. "He isn't right for Meg. He is only after on thing. He will only break her heart. I am certain of it. On top of that, he is completely boorish!"

Rising to his feet, Galahad pulled her to him gently before placing a kiss on her cheek. Smiling widely, he added, "Well I am certain he will not."

"Oh really," she asked, praying his response would quell her apprehension.

"Yes, really. I have known him for years, Cait and not once have I seen him put this much effort into wooing a woman. She has gotten under his skin. For whatever reason, she seems to have had an effect on him. Even if that effect has done nothing so far, but make him grumpy and easily agitated, it is an effect none the less. I think we should just stay out of it."

Stepping backwards and smiling sweetly, Cait nodded in defeat all too easily. "I better get back to work now. The only thing that kept Vanora from tanning my hide tonight were those berries for the pie." Turning to walk away, she stopped short when Galahad called her name sharply.

"I mean it, Cait. Stay out of it."

"Of course," she called over her shoulder as she made her way back to the bar. Of course, she and Galahad both knew she planned to do exactly the opposite.

* * *

Pacing the length of the room, Meg tried to concentrate on her breathing. _Calm down you ridiculous thing! _The four walls of the small space had begun to close in on her as the minutes crawled by. Her sanctuary had become her cage in a matter of hours.

_Its that damn knight's fault, _her mind shouted accusingly. Ever since that day on the road to the wall Gawain had been like a bane to her sanity. Whenever they were near each other she felt awkward and silly. Her insides would get twisted and her legs became watery.

She was not innocent by any means. She was no stranger to the ways of men. After her father had died she had a short, lackluster affair with the baker's son. For one month they had met twice a week near a small copse of trees past the edge of her village. He was the only one who didn't seem to care if she spoke back then. She did not need to speak for what they did. One day he had failed to appear, smiling boyishly and sprinkled with flour. Yes, he has used her, but when she thought on it she realized she had been using him as well. It did not bother her. So why now with this insufferable, yet handsome knight did she feel so unnerved?

Striding once more across the creaking floorboards, Meg thought on the curious man. He was different from the village boy. Of course she knew he did not care if she spoke either, but sometimes it appeared as if he did not notice her lack of words. As if her not having a voice were the most normal thing in the world. He accepted it. This unfortunately made her silence nearly impossible to bare.

Then there was the scout, Tristan. While Gawain accepted her muteness, Tristan seemed to understand it. Every time he spoke to her, every time he stared at her with those all seeing eyes he made her feel helpless, naked even, and that was somehow alright with her. One made her want to cry out and the other made her feel that there was no need in speaking ever again.

Grabbing a near empty purse of coins from a wooden box on the table, Meg gathered her shawl and practically ran from the oppressive prison. She needed to clear her head of knights an a surefire way to do that was through drink. Payday was tomorrow and the thought of a peaceful wine induced slumber was much more appealing than that of a meager breakfast in the morning.

Nearing the back door of the tavern,Meg waved over one of the girls that was working that night. Exchanging the small amount of coin for a skin of wine, she hurried on her way lest Cait spy her and try to coax her inside the place. Wrapping her shawl tightly around her shoulders she shuddered slightly as the wind picked up once she was out in the open.

Pulling the small cork out with her teeth and taking a deep swig, Meg began to walk. Not paying much attention to where her feet were leading her, she shortly found her way to a large and narrow staircase. Trudging up the steep steps she realized they led to the fort's battlements. _Peace at last!_

* * *

As Tristan finished the last of his ale, he looked around the small tavern casually. The same scenes that were played out every night were currently taking place. The approaching storm and the chill in the air did nothing to hinder the many patrons enjoyment of their evening. Even now as the distant thunder grew nearer, still they drank, gambled and whored their time away.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and shaking a stray braid from his eyes, Tristan rose and made his way to exit. The soft flicker of torches and girlish laughter that surrounded him had suddenly become tiresome. The tavern was too bright and full of life, a stark contrast to his darkening mood. The flowing drink and promise of soft flesh to warm his bed was not enough to keep him there this night. What he craved now was solitude.

Making his way silently across the battlements, he was surprised when he spied the obvious form of a female walking his way. Women had no business sneaking about in the night in his mind. Then again if some idiot farm boy was not able to keep his wife in her place, why should he care? She was none of his concern.

Just then a slight breeze blew past, taking with it the thick clouds that had been blocking out any hint of moonlight. With the woman much closer now and her appearance newly illuminated, he realized with irritation who she was. _Odd little Meg what are you doing_, he thought as he paused in the middle of the narrow walkway and waited for her to notice his presence.

Stumbling slightly on the uneven stones beneath her, Meg finally glanced ahead and noticed the menacing and fleshy roadblock that she had nearly fallen into.

"Lost again are you," he questioned calmly, succeeding in masking the boiling anger that was beginning to take hold.

She stared at him for a moment with a dopey, blank look upon her face. She seemed unsure of how to answer. Then leaning to the side, she rested her shoulder against the wall and smiled up at him playfully.

Arching a brow under his tangled mess of braids, he watched humorlessly as she rolled to her back and slid slowly to the stones at his feet. Reaching into the folds of her skirts, she produced the cause of her inebriation and held it in the scout's direction. Snatching it from her flimsy grasp, Tristan poured the rest of its contents over the wall. This earned him a dramatic eye roll from the still smiling Meg. Then grabbing her by the arm he slowly helped her to her feet a bit more harshly than was necessary.

"Does Cait know you're here," he demanded when she had stopped swaying. As soon as the name of her older sister was spoken the mischievous smirk on her face faded quickly into nothingness. Locking eyes with the man before her, Meg started back defiantly._ What business is it of yours_, she thought angrily as he waited calmly for some sort of response. She made up her mind quickly to not give him one. Snatching the empty skin from his hands, she shoved past him rudely. _How dare he treat me like some helpless child!_

Reaching out swiftly, he grabbed her by the arm again, this time pulling her sharply against the wall of his chest. His other hand gripped her waist firmly, leaving no possibility of escape.

The force and suddenness of the act left Meg panting for air. Staring shakily at the tattered threads that held his tunic together, she fought to remain standing. She was not sure if it was the wine she had ingested wearing off or the closeness of his body, but she was suddenly very alert and aware of her surroundings. Every spot that her body was pressed to his seemed to burn and throb and scream for quarter. The loud claps of thunder moved steadily closer and she was unable to stop herself from jumping slightly and digging her fingers deeper into his sleeves.

Looking down at the trembling woman in his arms, Tristan swallowed hard. With every forced intake of breath, her breasts were pressed harder into his chest and thrust upwards in a tempting display. They stood like that for some time, neither wanting to break the embrace. Both finding the stillness and silence intoxicating.

Uncurling her digits from the rough fabric that covered his arm, Meg watched helplessly as her hand gently made its way upwards. Snaking across his shoulder, she lifted shaking fingers to the dark markings that adorned his unreadable face. Then tracing the symbols lightly, she was finally able to gather enough courage to look him in the eye.

After stroking his cheek momentarily, Tristan watched soundlessly as the woman raised her lashes to meet his gaze. What he saw in those hazel depths made him hunger for her more than he had previously, it was a need. For what he was not entirely certain, but it was a definate demand and it was clearly urgent.

Digging his hands into her pliant flesh even harder, Tristan lowered his head and molded his mouth to hers. Her kisses were soft and small like the rest of her. Backing her against the wall, he pinned her to the rough stone surface with his hips. A low groan escaped his lips as she wound her small hands behind his neck and tried desperately to pull him even closer. In the haze of his desire he thought how she tasted sweet, like honey wine. The wine.

Breaking the kiss abruptly, Tristan shoved her away from him. Clenching his jaw, he stared out towards the trees in the distance. "You're drunk," he ground out unkindly.

Bringing shaking fingers to her lips, Meg stared at the man mortified. As the wind whipped around her aggressively she did her best to blink back the hot tears that threatened to spring forth at any second. Turning her back to him she smiled bitterly at what a fool she had been.

"Go."

The single word was strangled out and nearly inaudible. As the wind carried it away and the first drops of rain began to fall, Tristan clenched his fists severely. She had spoken. She had broken her silence because of his callous actions. Nodding his head slowly, he did as she bade him.

As he descended the steps feeling wretched and cruel, he realized he had been wrong all along. It was not Gawain that Meg needed protecting from, but him.

* * *

Ah! Chapter 8. This one goes out to my lovely reviewer caro who requested that Meg get to speaking. She also asked that Tristan be the one on the receiving end of it. Hope you enjoy it caro! See guys: ask and ye shall receive. Especially when you are dealing with a writer than can't make up her mind ;)

This chapter was such a pain! I really don't think I would have gotten through it were it not for the music of Theatre of Tragedy. If you are curious about one of the many methods behind this madness then you must listen to them. I was blasting their song A Distance There Is for most of this chapter. Can you tell? It is my new Tristan/Meg song lol. I also have a Theatre of Tragedy Gawain/ Meg song. Sweet Art Thou. What can I say? I enjoy rocking out while I write ^_^

Please give it to me straight: what do you guys think?

Btw, apologies for the lack of Gawain to those of you that are rooting for him. He will be back shortly to torment Meg some more. I promise!


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **Sorry for the huge delay in this update! My recovery from my surgery did not go as planned. Then I got to move on top of that. It was chaos! Within the next 2-3 chapters I will finally go on and pair Meg up already. It has been fun torturing her, but it can't go on forever. I posted a poll on my profile. So far Griffin has 1 vote and Gawain has 1 vote. We'll see! This chapter goes out to my lovely reviewer Lexi02, she requested more Gawain. Hope you all enjoy! Now you know the drill: read, review, request, ect. ;)

* * *

Opening one eye, Meg looked about the room in a haze of fatigue, then rolling to her back let out a lengthy yawn. Judging by the minuscule amount of light that shone through the high window above her resting spot it was just past dawn. After taking a moment to let her body and mind become accustomed to the idea of rising, she rolled from the bed and made her way sluggishly to the wash basin. Splashing the cool water over her face, she shuddered involuntarily at the sensation. Had she not promised to take over Cora's shift in the fort's laundry, she would have crawled back to bed promptly.

It was her own fault, she concluded. For nearly a week she had run herself ragged by taking on extra mending and working longer hours. It was the only way she knew to escape. Every minute spent idly would bring up feelings she did not care to address. The more time spent hidden away with needle in hand, the less likely she way to bump into knights. She knew that was what all of this was about, avoiding knights.

He had kissed her. Tristan had kissed her. She had not been so intoxicated as to forget that fact. He had kissed her and she had allowed it willingly, had enjoyed it even. Of course, then he had rejected her. The way he had scolded her and then looked at her with dread in his eyes had been nearly unendurable. Then she had spoke. She had been so utterly humiliated, it seemed the only choice available. In that moment she could not stand the sight of him. He had made her feel ashamed and ignorant. The words had come much easier than she had ever imagined. Sure, it had been croaked out pathetically, but that did not matter. He had heard and he had complied.

More than anything she had come to feel guilty as the days passed. Looking to the empty basket that sat on the table across from her, Meg tried to smother the emotions that surfaced. _It should have been Gawain's kisses I received that day_, she thought with a sad smile.

Shaking the torturous thought from her head, she went to dressing. There was work to be done and her sulking in her room all morning would not remedy that.

* * *

As Gawain walked down the shadowy corridors of the fortress on his way to the laundry, he considered turning back. He was not sure which was more absurd, his excitement at the prospect of seeing Meg or the fact that he had ripped one of his best shirts on purpose so as to have an excuse to seek her out. Unfortunately Cora had been the only one working on that day. All he could do was leave the thing and hope that she was there upon his return.

He had seem very little of Meg for nearly a week. Once he had glimpsed her on market day browsing through a large pile of ribbons laid out at one of the merchant's stands. She had paused briefly over one in particular and then went on her way. On another occasion he had watched attentively as she attempted to teach one of Bor's and Vanora's brood how to say a few words with his hands as she did. The results had been comical.

He had felt the idiot these past few days. Not since the awkward years of his coming of age had he been forced to give chase when it came to the fairer sex. Tristan had seemed to lose interest and for that he was thankful. Of course now there was the matter of a love sick woodsman panting after her. He did not feel that Griffin posed any sort of threat, but it was an annoyance still. Every time he watched the younger man wave to her cheerfully or stare at her longingly, he couldn't help but feel provoked.

He had wanted her since the first moment he had laid eyes on her. As he had watched her on the road, wild eyes and ready to defend Cait, he knew she was a different type of creature than the women he had known before. He had been frustrated when she had not thrown herself at him as most women did shortly after he let his interest be known, but recently that had changed. His frustration had turned to enjoyment. He had forgotten how invigorating the act of pursuing a woman could be.

Pursue her, he would. She could deny it all she wanted, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he would possess her. That day in the forest had revealed that she was not immune to his charms. The quickened pulse he had felt at her wrist and the blush that came soon after had made that clear. She had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. In that moment he had made up his mind. He would make her his woman, everyone else at the wall be damned.

* * *

Sitting in front of the laundry's sole window, Meg struggled to keep her focus. Ripping seams was a tedious job and it was easy to let one's mind wander. Sliding bits of knotted thread through the tattered fabric in her hands, she let her thoughts drift to the past. So much about her life had changed in such a small amount of time. Everything was hazy and complicated now. Life had been so simple before the fevers. It was almost too difficult to envision where she and Cait would be if things had turned out differently. Stretching her stiff fingers while considering the possibilities, she failed to notice the approaching footsteps behind her.

Grasping the back of the wobbly chair the woman was perched on, Gawain leaned down to her level before whispering his greeting into her ear. "Hello, Meg."

Shooting from her seat in surprise, Meg clasped her hand over her mouth as she watched her former resting spot slam sharply into the blonde knight's midsection.

Clamping a hand over his gut, Gawain groaned as he doubled over from the unexpected blow. This wasn't exactly how he had imagined their encounter playing out. Laughing off the jolt and returning to an upright position, he watched as relief flooded across Meg's fact at that realization that he had not been hurt.

Gripping her now forgotten mending in her hand, she glanced embarrassed from the floor to his eyes and back again. The silence between then stretched on for a moment longer than she was comfortable with. Then raising her eyes once more, she noticed the teasing twinkle held in his own as he watched her uncomfortable fidgeting.

Staring into her eyes more intensely than was proper, he couldn't resist toying with her. "Meg," he began as he took a small, but deliberate step towards her. "You have something I want." Resting his hands gently on the chair that separated then, he watched intently, eager to see if she was too innocent to notice his suggestive words.

Swallowing hard, Meg tore her eyes from his and looked around the room frantically. Biting her lip in frustration, her temper flared as she noticed the knowing smile and heard the muffled giggling of the only other person present. Gathering a basket of freshly washed linens, the woman excused herself all too quickly. _Off to spread the gossip_, Meg thought angrily. Looking back to the man before her, she waited on edge for him to continue.

Seeing a mix of anger and mortification on her face, Gawain cursed himself inwardly. _Not how I had imagined at all. _Nodding to a pile of newly mended clothing on the far table he cleared his throat, suddenly gone dry and continued. "My shirt."

Wrinkling her brow, slightly disappointed by his words, Meg scurried to the large work surface hurriedly. _Of course he is here for his laundry, you silly nitwit_, her mind screamed mockingly. _Did you really think he came all the way here just to flirt with the likes of you? _Setting her mending to the side, she set about finding the recently repaired garment. Digging through the piles of tunics and breeches, she was startled when her hand made contact with something sharp and the familiar sting of a cut registered. Snatching her arm to her chest, Meg winced loudly as the pain set in. Blinking quickly, she was surprised to find that tears were already beginning to fall.

Striding the few paces that separated them, Gawain pulled her hand out for his inspection. A large gash now ran down the center of her tiny palm. Reaching out tenderly, he ran his thumb across her slightly damp cheek. "Shh," he soother. "It's alright, little one." Looking to the table he noticed the large pair of shears peeking from under the stacks of clothing. "Here, sit" he commanded as he led her to the chair she had occupied only moments before. Walking to the far wall, he retrieved a small wash basin and then settled himself on his knees before her.

Pressing her lips together firmly, Meg watched bewildered as the normally rough man lightly uncurled her fingers and studied the wound thoughtfully. Then without warning, Gawain ripped a swatch of cloth from the hem of her dress. Snatching her hand back in outrage, she looked to him as if he were completely insane.

Grasping her by the wrist, he pulled her arm back so as to tend the wound. Then dipping the strip of fabric into the cool water, he went to washing her cut as gently as was possible. After raising his eyes momentarily to gage her mood, he nodded to the large rip in her dress. "You can fix that right," he teased lightly in the hopes of easing the tension in the air. Smiling slightly he waited for her to protest.

Raising a brow, Meg considered his words for a moment before a small twitch of a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the cause of her current discomfort.

"This is some cut. You need to have Dagonet take a look," he instructed as he continued to rinse the blood from her skin.

Nodding her agreement, Meg couldn't help, but smile at his obvious concern. It was strange watching him in that moment. Looking to his large, scarred hands she watched in wonder at how gentle they were. Those hands she had watched brutally kill a man once were now instruments that soothed. Smiling to herself, Meg thought that maybe there was more to Gawain than she had originally imagined.

* * *

"Tristan!"

Pausing as his name was called, Tristan turned to see a sweat soaked Lancelot jogging in his direction.

"Have you seen Gawain," he panted as he came to a halt in front of the stoic scout.

"No," was the simply stated reply. Then turning back towards the direction he had been traveling, he made to take his leave only to stop short as Lancelot continued.

"You know I actually did see him earlier," the younger man drawled, always eager to cause drama. "He was headed in the direction of the laundry, I believe. He's supposed to be helping me with these new recruits. I suppose _something_ must have," pausing for effect, Lancelot smirked mischievously before finishing. "...distracted him." Watching closely, he noted the tiniest glimmer of something spark in Tristan's eyes. "You wouldn't mind hunting him down for me, would you?" The word "hunting" being clearly emphasized.

Grunting his acceptance of the task, Tristan stalked across the courtyard in the opposite direction. He was not in the habit of being Lancelot's errand boy, but this particular chore was one he was unable to pass on. He knew that Meg had been avoiding him. In truth he had been avoiding her as well. He did not have time for these types of distractions. That was all she was anymore, a tiny, insignificant distraction. It was time to put things to rest.

* * *

Approaching the entrance to his destination, Tristan steeled himself in preparation for the encounter. He had known she would be trouble, the little pest. He was not her keeper. He knew he had no business trying to play the minder. He couldn't even shield her from his own rampant lust, but still...

Entering the narrow doorway, Tristan paused having been unprepared for the sight that greeted him. There she sat, all sweet smiles and _he_ had his hands on her. Clenching his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth may would shatter, he watched their interaction unnoticed. Her face was a bit paler than normal and the tiny remnants of freshly shed tears clung to her dark lashes, yet she smiled still. Clearing his throat loudly, he took a step into the room.

Jerking her head at the noise, Meg snatched her hand free from Gawain's grasp, nearly toppling the chair in her haste.

As he rose from his position to stand, Gawain noted the sudden burst of color that flooded her cheeks with Tristan's arrival. Looking to the other man with thinly veiled suspicion in his eyes, he was the first to speak.

"Is there something wrong, Tristan," was his query as he returned the basin of water to its resting place.

Not bothering to take his eyes from Meg, Tristan's reply was a bit more icy than normal. "You're supposed to be helping Lancelot with training. He asked me to fetch you." Finally pulling his eyes from the woman, he looked to Gawain and nodded in Meg's direction. "What's going on here then?"

Pulling himself to his full height and clearing his throat, Gawain suddenly felt like a child caught in the act of doing something naughty. Shaking the silly thought from his head quickly, he went about explaining. "Meg cut herself. I was just about to take her to see Dag."

Narrowing his eyes and glancing to the woman, he watched as she wound a wet piece of cloth around the injury. "I'll take her. You should go."

At this Meg finally tore her attention from her hand and looked to the two men before her. _Like a couple of starved dogs with a bone they are, _she thought uneasily as Gawain considered the offer.

Running his hands through his hair and letting out a puff of air in defeat, he nodded his consent. "Alright then." Turning to Meg, he continued. "I am late. Let me know how it goes?"

Nodding her head quickly, Meg smiled to him in understanding.

His shirt long forgotten, Gawain made his way to the exit, pausing briefly to shoot Tristan a warning look before leaving them alone together.

Making her way slowly to the door, eyes cast to the boards at her feet, Meg paused as Tristan moved towards her suddenly. As his fingers made contact with hers, her sharp intake of breath could not be helped. Tucking the frayed end of the cloth more securely into her bandage, he studied her face momentarily. Then pointing over his shoulder, he motioned to the doorway. "What are you waiting for, girl?"

Clenching her fist at the haughty tone he had used, Meg struggled not to wince at the pain the act had caused her. Raising her face to meet his gaze, their cheeks nearly colliding with the motion, she stared back at him stubbornly. When his scrutiny did not end, she rolled her eyes defiantly and set her feet to moving.

_Intolerable oaf!, _her mind screamed as she rounded the corner on her way to the infirmary. Their entire journey was spent in silence, Tristan keeping pace easily no matter how quickly Meg tried to walk ahead of him. She felt that at any moment her body would burst into flames as his eyes bore into her turned back the whole way there.

As they neared the heavy wooden doors that led into the sick rooms, Meg stopped and turned abruptly. Then with a quick gesture of her hands to signal her appreciation, spun back towards the doors to finish the trip alone.

Before she had taken two steps, she felt the familiar shock of his skin against hers as he snatched her backwards by her good hand. Squeezing her fingers tightly in his vice like grip and then loosening his grasp to feather lite, Tristan stared at her intensely, forcing her to look at him.

"I've not told anyone," he stated flatly and with no emotion as his fingers stroked hers in what Meg guessed was his attempt at a comforting gesture. "I won't."

It took a moment for his words to register. A moment longer for their meaning to sink in. _Her secret had now become their secret. _Swallowing the lump in her throat that she had not noticed forming, Meg stared at him in awe. Searching his eyes, she tried desperately to determine if his words were fact or fiction. Though his face was unreadable something deep within her knew that Tristan was not the type of man to be false.

Twirling her fingers in his slowly, she did not break their eye contact as was her habit. Instead she nodded in understanding, then turned and walked away, her fingers sliding from his easily as she left.

Balling his hands into fists, Tristan turned and headed back in the direction from which they had come. Smiling wryly, he shook his head as he quickened his pace. _Pest._

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

Climbing nimbly into the back of his cart, Griffin gathered another bundle of furs before jumping to the ground with a groan. The journey to the wall had been arduous this time around and he was not looking forward to the long day ahead of him. Ignoring his growling stomach and aching muscles, he set about arranging his wares at his usual stall. After sorting them by quality and size, he turned to observe the fort's steady stream of prospective customers.

Across the way, not far from where he was situated, two very attractive young women stood flirting playfully with some of Arthur's knights in training. Watching the interaction secretly, he noted the way they tossed their hair while smiling sweetly and giggled meekly when was appropriate. _Very attractive indeed._

Witnessing the scene made his thoughts turn to Meg. While she was not anywhere near as beautiful as the two ladies before him, she did seem humble. Humble and smart despite being a mute. _Those are very important things to look for when choosing a wife_, he reasoned. A woman like Meg would make a fine bride and if his brief interaction with her was any indication of her demeanor, she would certainly know her place.

Astrid had known her place. Before her death by Saxon hands, his first wife had been the picture of goodness and virtue. It had been difficult to move on after her passing, but moving on was what he had to do.

Making up his mind after months of inner debate, Griffin decided that he would approach Cait with the idea. Cait was a good woman and she certainly seemed eager for him to court her sister. _Shame that one is already spoken for_, he thought with mild disappointment.

At this point it seemed the only thing to stand in his way would be King Arthur's Sarmatians. They were a rowdy bunch and just the thought of them was enough to put him on edge. Drunks and rogues, the whole lot, by his way of seeing it. He had been slightly disturbed when he noticed one of them silently stalking about in the shadows, watching Meg as she shopped. His alarm had doubled when he realized the more boisterous and leonine one seemed to have an interest in her as well. He assumed the only reason they paid her any mind was because she seemed an easy target, fiends that they were.

Turning his attentions back to a browsing customer, Griffin thought on his plan of action. Meg would be very suitable, he was certain. Now he just had to bide his time until the perfect moment.

* * *

Rows away on the far side of the marketplace, Cait was currently dragging Meg from stall to stall hurriedly. The day was cool and unusually sunny and the fine weather had given both sisters a much needed burst of energy.

"Thanks again for helping me, Meg," Cait called over her shoulder as she tucked more produce into her nearly over flowing basket. "Vanora doesn't have the patience to barter for a decent price and I think some of these merchants are a bit frightened by her."

"So did you hear the rumors," she inquired, while going over the list of supplies the tavern needed in her head. "Of course you haven't, eh? I heard one of those young recruits of Lancelot's blabbing to some whore behind the bakery ," she stated matter of factly as she walked further down the row. "Seems there has been talk of groups of wild Woads ransacking villages farther North. Galahad hasn't mentioned it. Not like he would. You listening, Meg?"

Nodding quickly, Meg struggled to readjust the basket she was carrying, praying she didn't spill the makings for tonight's stew in the dirt. Rumors were normally just that in her experience and she always made a point of doing her best to ignore them. Besides, why should she be concerned with a bunch of restless Woads? Losing herself in her thoughts momentarily, Meg nearly came out of her skin at the sudden and noisy gasp that her sister let loose.

"Oh! It is too beautiful," she gushed as she flew across the isle, nearly knocking over a fellow shopper in her excitement.

Ducking through the crowds quickly, Meg approached the stall Cait had been so eager to reach. Peeking over the other woman's shoulder, she admired the wooden comb that she spoke of. It was small and delicate and tiny bluebells had been carved into the handle.

"I'll take it," she beamed while digging into her purse of coins for the correct amount. After finishing the transaction hastily in her impulse purchase, she looked to her side and smiled widely at her younger sibling.

"You'll never buy it will you," she asked in a voice that did nothing to mask her amusement. Plucking the thin green ribbon from Meg's fingers, she eyed it shortly while wrinkling her nose. "Always green," she muttered before tossing it back on the table with the others. Continuing on her way she nodded for Meg to follow.

Glancing once more to the pretty length of ribbon she had wanted desperately for ages, Meg tucked an unruly strand of hair behind her ear before moving to catch up.

"You do realize if you'd stop sneaking skins of wine and buying Bor's and Vanora's kids sweets behind their backs that you could afford it," Cait stated mockingly as she approached a cart piled high with wooden baskets. Seeing Meg's eyes widen in surprise and the guilty smile that accompanied it, she laughed loudly. "You didn't think I knew? Why you don't just come into the tavern and drink like a normal person, I will never know."

Browsing through the merchandise that was offered, Cait made sure to introduce Meg to Ceren, the girl who made them. She had not been at the wall long and was in definite need to friends in Cait's opinion. Finishing her lengthy survey, she turned to Meg and was just about to suggest they head back to the tavern when she spied a familiar face bouncing their way. It was the boy whose mother owned the ribbon stand.

"Miss!Miss," he shouted as he neared the two of them. Holding out a fist in Meg's direction, he practically beamed with mischief. "For you, Miss."

Arching an eyebrow at the boy and then looking to Cait quizzically, Meg held out her palm to accept whatever the boy offered.

Smiling even more broadly, the boy lowered his hand and placed the prize in hers.

Looking at her outstretched hand, Meg stared at the shiny green treasure the boy had just given her.

"What's that for then," Cait all but shouted when she saw the familiar ribbon glistening in the sunlight.

"It's from a man, Ma'am. He said to give it to her. Only I had to promise to not tell who he was," the boy replied, still smiling and obviously pleased with being apart of the secret gifting.

"Alright, run along then," Cait ordered as she turned her attentions back to her little sister.

Standing on her toes, Meg struggled to see over the crowd. _If you were just a bit taller then maybe you could see something...someone._ Turning to Cait she couldn't help the smile that quickly spread across her face.

"So it seems you have a secret admirer, then," Cait purred as she shoved Meg further down the row, in the direction of the tavern. Glancing to the side she noted the faraway look in Meg's eyes and the small smile that tugged at her lips as she twirled her new present between her fingers. Sighing loudly, she couldn't help but smile herself. "I guess it _is_ terribly romantic."

As the women left the market behind and walked swiftly towards the soon to open tavern, neither noticed the two sets of eyes that had just witnessed it all. One full of mischief and satisfaction. The other full of jealously and bitterness.

* * *

Flexing her fingers and rotating her wrist, Meg tried to ignore the pain in her right hand. Her stitches itched and the bandage was beginning to become a nuisance. Luckily the cut wasn't very serious and Dagonet had assured her that once it was fully healed it would not affect her sewing in any way. _He didn't mention anything about chopping carrots_, Meg smiled as she went back to helping Cait prepare the meal the tavern would be serving that evening.

"Are you going to keep that silly smile on your face forever, Meg," Cait teased as she dried another mug before placing it on one of the high shelves above her. "If I would have known it would make you this happy, I would have bought you that ribbon months ago."

"The green one," Galahad questioned as he entered the kitchen through the open side door. Anyone with eyes who knew Meg had probably seen her mope over the thing. After kissing Cait gently on the cheek, he took a seat at the large work surface Meg was settled at. "You finally bought it?" Sensing he was teasing her, Meg quickly flicked a hunk of chopped carrot in his direction which he promptly shoved into his mouth with a grin.

Setting a large mug of ale in front of her nosy husband, Cait smiled coyly before shaking her head in the negative. Looking to her sister and then back to Galahad, it only took a moment before she could no longer contain herself. "It is from a man! She doesn't know who yet, but I have an idea."

Sighing loudly and then taking a large swig of the bitter drink before him, Galahad turned to Cait. "And I am sure you are practically dying to let us all know who, aren't you?"

Snorting loudly, Cait turned back to drying mugs and did her best to pretend she had no interest. After just a few moments of silence, she decided she'd had quite enough of pretending. Tossing her drying rag on the table, she found herself struggling to ignore Galahad's muffled snickering before blurting out. "Oh hush! I think it was Griffin, alright."

Pausing in her task, Meg looked from Cait to Galahad and back again with a look that was full of both shock and disgust.

Laughing loudly and slamming his empty cup on the table, Galahad turned to Cait and grinned broadly.

"What," Cait mumbled as she waited for him to start crowing in triumph.

"What? Meg doesn't like dead-animal man. That is what, and didn't you say you would stay out of it," he replied after noticing how adorable his wife looked when angry.

Taking a step closer to the table, Cait rested her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. "Meg does not even know dead-animal man."

At her referring to the woodsman as "dead-animal man", Galahad erupted into a fresh bout of laughter.

"Griffin," she corrected, but it was too late. Both Meg and her husband were now having great difficulty containing themselves.

"Well I am glad the two of you find this so amusing. I am only trying to be helpful. I would rather not sit by idly and watch my only sister turn into some lonely old hag!"

Rising from his chair, Galahad walked around the table to Meg's side. Leaning down to her level, he nodded in the direction of his frowning wife. "I'll hold her down while you sew her mouth shut. What do you say," he teased.

After seeming to consider the proposition for a moment, Meg nodded in agreement.

"Out! The both of you. You should be resting that hand. You," she stated as she swung her attention from Meg to Galahad. "I will deal with you later."

Taking a step towards her, Galahad couldn't help but ask, "A promise is it?"

"Out," she warned, struggling to keep a mask of seriousness at his flirting.

"Alright, alright. No need to get ugly," he replied, holding his hands up to show his acceptance of defeat. Offering his arm to Meg, he continued. "We can tell when we are not wanted."

After gathering her things, Meg took Galahad's offered arm and let him lead her to the door in a grand act of mock offense. Then sticking their noses in the air, they made their dramatic exit to the sound of annoyed sighing from Cait.

"Stay out of it," Cait mumbled to herself after their ridiculous departure. "Not a chance."

* * *

Walking down the narrow passage that led to his room, Galahad groaned lowly. After walking Meg to the laundry he had gone straight to the training yard and had been there ever since. His muscles throbbed and his mind felt like mush. A nice quiet evening spent with the woman he loved sounded like the Christian's heaven at the moment.

Entering through the creaking, wooden door he found Cait lounging in front of the hearth with a small spread of cheese and bread.

"Secret picnics without me," he teased as he tossed his gear on the table and lowered himself to her side.

"Yes, very secret. My lover just left actually," she quipped before handing him a chunk of the loaf she held in her hand. Dusting a few stray crumbs from her skirt, she looked into the flames and suddenly became very serious. "Galahad, we should talk," she said in a much quieter tone than her husband was used to hearing her use.

"Everything alright," he questioned as his brows knit together in worry.

"Yes," she stammered. "No. I keep hearing people talk. They talk of Woads." Watching his face carefully, she noticed with disappointment the way his eyes darkened at the word.

Sighing softly, Cait turned her attention back to the fire. "You'll have to leave soon, won't you?"

Setting the small platter that separated then aside, Galahad scooted closer to her and took her face in his hands. Looking into her soft brown eyes, he felt his heart clench at the worry and fear he saw clearly in them. Cait meant more to him than anything else in the world and the fact that he was the cause of any unhappiness she felt was agonizing. He would do anything to remedy that.

Looking down at her hands twirling nervously in her lap, he decided to avoid the question entirely for the time being. Smiling slowly, he winked at her before finally speaking. "You worry too much, darling."

Wrapping her arms around his waist, Cait snuggled close to his chest, tucking her head under his chin. "Yes, I worry. I can't help it."

Lifting her chin, Galahad let his lips graze hers momentarily before murmuring against their softness, "I can."

As soon as the words had been uttered, she flew at him. Wrapping herself around him tightly, she was all legs and arms and desperate kisses. She knew he had purposefully avoided telling her the truth. Deep down they both knew that sooner or later the day would come when he would have to leave her alone. A day when he would leave and face the type of dangers she had only heard stories of. Holding his mouth to hers, she forced the dark thought from her mind. If he had to leave then she wanted nothing to mar the memory of her moments with him.

Rolling her beneath him, Galahad made quick work of the laces at her chest. Then pulling his tunic over his head, he went to removing her skirts.

As he trailed hot kisses down the valley of her breasts, he slid the thin layers of cloth over her hips causing Cait to whimper his name in her need. If she could just feel his skin against hers then she knew nothing else that was happening in their world would matter. Sliding a slim leg up the back of his thigh, Cait wrapped it tightly about his waist, pushing herself against him.

Cursing under his breath, Galahad fumbled with the laces of his pants, the only barrier between them. Pushing the rough fabric away, he pulled her to him closer, it was never close enough. At her first kisses his desire had been strong, almost painful. Watching now as she gripped his shoulder and rubbed herself against his thigh, it was almost unbearable. Grabbing her thighs and pulling her legs apart further, he let himself slide into her slowly, enjoying the way she tightened and twitched the further he went.

Moving her legs higher up his back, Cait began to rock her hips gently, keeping in time with his rhythm. They moved as one, each giving and taking what they both needed. Each doing what they could to prolong their pleasure and postpone the inevitable ending.

Pressing her tiny nails into the taught muscles of his shoulders, Cait held her breath as she felt the familiar tension building deep in her belly. She did not want it to end, but as his deep stroked quickened in pace as he neared his own completion, she was powerless to fight it. At last her hips bucked sharply of their own accord as she called out her release, Galahad following shortly after.

It was some time later before either of them had gained the energy it took to move to their bed. Not long after, Cait had dozed off, all worries forgotten. As Galahad lay awake watching her sleep, he ran his hand over his face and groaned. Cait had heard someone talking and he suspected it would not be long before all her fears were confirmed.

* * *

Yay! Valentine's day sexin'.

First off- I am so sorry it took me this long to update. I am still trying to unpack.

Second- I should apologized for the lack of Gawain and Tristan in this chapter too, I suppose. I felt like I had been neglecting Cait and Galahad. I hope you all enjoyed it anyhow! They will both be back in the next chapter, promise!

Third- A big thank you and kisses to everyone for their reviews and for voting in the poll. I take it most of you are big Tristan fans then? Lol

Lastly- It is now time for me to pair Miss Meg off. I have to know who before I start writing this next chapter. If you have any last bits of advice or any last arguments for which knight and why....Tell me now!

I hope everyone has a lovely holiday!


	11. Chapter 11

As Six stood quietly in the center of the yet to open tavern, it took every ounce of his willpower not to groan and fall to the floor from boredom. Doing his best impression of a statue, he struggled to remain stone still as Meg hemmed the bottom of his pants, newly passed down from an older brother. Girls were boring, especially girls as old as his mother and he wanted nothing other than to be rid of their dull chattering.

"Boy, if you don't stop that squirming you'll end up with those pants permanently sewn to your little legs," Vanora scolded as the boy wiggled in his discomfort. "Serve you right, it would. I hear Meg has a bad habit of slipping, too."

After nodding her head solemnly at the child's wide-eyed look of disbelief, Meg spared Vanora a smile over his head before continuing her work. A few stitches later and she was helping the boy down from the bench he stood atop. Ruffling his hair and nodding at the squeaked" thank you" he gave, she watched happily as he ran from the tavern as quickly as he could. She had no doubts that he was off to brag to his siblings of how he had survived her shotty needlework.

"Would you look at her go," Vanora chirped as she nodded to the bar where Cait stood. Scrubbing with all her strength, she puffed with the effort. "I don't think it can get any cleaner, Sweets!"

Walking across the tavern, Meg snatched the sopping rag from her sister's white knuckle grip before propelling her towards the table where Vanora sat. Cait had been driving them all mad in the weeks the knights had been gone.

"I'm fine, Meggy," Cait squawked as she was pushed onto a wooden bench.

"No, she is right. You look pale," Vanora noted as she rose from her seat and felt the other woman's brow for signs of fever." You been sleeping alright?"

Yawning largely, Cait covered her mouth before smiling. "Of course."

Snorting, Vanora shook her head at the younger woman, a knowing look in her eyes. "I used to worry myself sick too. Back when I first met Bors I was a wreck every time he had to leave. It's perfectly natural."

"How long until it gets better," Cait asked as she picked imaginary pieces of fuzz from her dress sleeve.

"It doesn't," Vanora laughed. Patting the woman on the arm and smiling at her kindly, she continued. "It never gets better. Not until every last one of those knights comes home safe."

Groaning her disappointment, Cait snatched her cleaning rag back from her sister's grasp. Rising from her seat so she could continue her work, she spun sharply as Six came barreling back into the tavern.

"They're back! They're back," he stammered in excitement. "The knights are back!"

* * *

As the small party of mounted men guided their horses towards the fort's stables, Galahad sighed in relief. Three weeks they had been gone. It had not been difficult to find evidence to support the tales. Villages burned to ash and entire caravans of travelers slaughtered had confirmed their suspicions. Catching the bastards was another thing entirely. They might as well have been chasing a band of ghosts for all the good the journey did them.

Looking to the large number of people who had gathered to wish them well on their homecoming, he couldn't help his feelings of unease. A noteworthy amount of the new residents were Woads. Now there was a large group of them, renegade, living in secret farther North. Was it possible that they were not the only ones to disagree with Merlin's decision to unite their people with those of Arthur?

Dismounting swiftly, Galahad began to search the sea of smiling faces for one face in particular. The one face that had consumed his thoughts as he lay on the cold ground on the woods night after night. Of course he would hear her before he saw her, he smiled as a familiar voice called his name. Turning at the sound, he watched cheerily as Cait shoved her way past the crowd and flung herself into his arms. Sweeping her into a tight embrace, he spun her around, delighting in the fact that she had missed him as much as he had her.

Pressing her way through the mass of bodies surrounding the knights, Meg finally broke through the mob. Standing on her toes, she smiled warmly as she spied Vanora in a showy lip-lock with a completely compliant Bors. So caught up in watching the couple's merry reunion, she was, she did not notice the hulking bear of a man stalking his way in her direction. As the large body moved past her, Meg was knocked slightly off balance and in her fight to remain upright she lost hold of her shawl.

Crouching down to recover the treasured article of clothing, she was startled when another hand retrieved it for her. Returning to a stand, she shivered slightly as she realized that the hand belonged to Tristan. She had not seen him since their strange parting after he had walked her to the infirmary the month before. Not sure how to react to his presence, she gave a watery smile before dropping her eyes to the shawl nervously.

Nodding in greeting, he held the delicate length of green cloth towards her. After giving her eyes a moment to take in his fierce appearance, Meg took a timid step forward to fetch it. Wrapping her fingers around the fabric, she paused as the rough skin of his fingers brushed against her own. As she raised her eyes to meet his, she noted the feral glint that had sparked from their depths. Tristan was all fire and intensity and the thought made her feel practically wanton. Letting her hand remain against his, Meg marveled at the idea.

At the sound of Cait laughing happily at something Galahad had whispered to her suggestively, the spell was broken. Snatching her hand back quickly, Meg looked around to see if anyone had noticed their interaction. Her eyes darting through the crowds they shortly came to rest upon the form of her only sibling. Cait was oblivious.

Pressing his lips into a firm line, Tristan battled the mix of fury and pity that bubbled just below the surface. Whether she was ashamed to be seen with him or had pulled back out of some sense of sisterly devotion, he could not tell. Nodding to the smudges of grime his hand had left on her shawl and fingers, he apologized sharply before turning and heading for the stables. As Meg made her way across the courtyard to welcome home her brother-in-law, she didn't realize that someone had in fact witnessed her exchange with the scout.

* * *

Sitting on one of many rough, wooden benches outside of the stables to clean his weapons, Gawain let his mind wander to what he had witnessed upon his homecoming. It was not the first time he had noticed something between the pair. Only this time it had been different.

Meg was attracted to him, of that he was certain. He had enough experience with woman to know when their interest had been piqued. He could make her smile and blush and was positive that she had enjoyed their times together as much as he had. As he had watched her with Tristan that day, he had realized that even though there was a strong physical attraction between the two of them, there was a bond between her and Tristan. A bond that was something more than physical. She reacted differently with the scout. The way they had stared at one another in an almost possessive manner left him with no doubts.

Thinking back as long as he had known the man, Gawain couldn't remember seeing Tristan so intrigued where a woman was concerned. Of course they had all had numerous flings over the years, but never could he recall a time when the scout treated a woman as anything other than disposable. The way he had let his hand linger while giving Meg back her shawl had rattled Gawain's senses.

Mulling over his own feelings for the woman, he was shortly able to comprehend the nature of his emotions. Meg fascinated him. He had wooed her relentlessly and despite her obvious fondness for him, she had resisted. It was time for him to stop considering the idea and face the truth. People always desire that which is unattainable. It had been an amusing and enjoyable chase, but deep down he knew he did not love her. Of course he cared for her deeply, but Tristan seemed to understand her. It was as if he could not only comprehend, but appreciate some part of Meg that everyone else was not aware existed.

Setting his weapon aside and gazing across the barren courtyard, Gawain made up his mind. He would set things right.

* * *

Keeping her eyes on the newly dry laundry she was responsible for folding, Meg did her best not to look in Cora's direction. Upon her arrival it did not take long for her to gage that something was amiss. For nearly half an hour she had been muttering curse words under her breath while poking her head in each and every nook and cranny.

"Bloody Hell," she shouted in annoyance, making Meg jump. "Half a bolt of leather, gone. I don't have time for this."

It was only a few moments later that she approached Meg, smiling. After glancing over her shoulder at the desperate woman, Meg turned back to her work, shaking her head.

"Aww c'mon Meg! My shift is nearly over and yours had just begun. Griffin normally leaves near this time and it will be weeks before he is back. You know he has the best price," Cora whined.

At the mention of Griffin's name, Meg's flesh began to crawl. He was always smiling and it made her feel uncomfortable. Much more so now that Cait had brought up the fact that he had some sort of crush on her.

"Please, Meg. I've still got a shirt to mend before I can go and a trip to the market means I'll never get out of here on time." Placing her hands in a prayer like position, Cora did her best to appear pitiful and in need of help.

Arching a brow at the other woman's sad attempt at making her feel guilty, Meg smiled. Then holding out her hand for the needed coin, she sighed as Cora ran off to fetch the correct amount. _If anything the fresh air should prove refreshing_, she thought casually as she tried not to think on having to face the cocky woodsman.

* * *

As she poured over the already picked through hides before her, Meg could feel Griffin's eyes upon her. After finishing a transaction with a customer he swaggered in her direction, his annoying mask of a smile in place.

"Need any help, Meg," he drawled as she leaned over to get a better look at his wares. Standing up straight, she was shaken to find him stood so unnecessarily close. "See anything you like?"

Taking a step back, Meg shook her head in the negative. On this day she did not care for his stock and certainly not for him. Just as he was opening his mouth to speak to her further, a familiar and much welcome voice cut him off.

"Meg! It is a _beautiful_ day, is it not?"

Stepping between the two, with Meg at his back, Gawain casually rested his hand on the mace hanging from his side. "Griffin," he nodded in greeting. "I thought you had normally packed up and headed home by this time. You're not staying are you?"

Pulling his eyes from the intimidating weapon that hung menacingly from the knight's waist, Griffin swallowed hard before answering. "Actually I am staying a few days extra this month. I have personal business to attend to," he spat, barely able to contain the venom in his words.

Not missing the way his eyes had darted to Meg as he spoke, Gawain smiled wickedly. "Well good luck with that then," he barked sarcastically. "C'mon, Meg. You can walk me to the stables."

Smiling behind the hand held to her mouth to contain the threatening laughter, Meg nodded her willingness and turned. Walking in the direction of the stables, she made certain not to glance behind them to see how Griffin had reacted to their departure.

"So," Gawain started, the beginning of conversation making them both pause in the middle of the busy courtyard. "How is your hand?"

Holding her palm out for inspection, Meg wiggled her fingers while rotating her wrist.

"Still working, I see," Gawain noted while smiling broadly at her playful mood.

Raising his eyes from her hand, he realized that she had turned her attention to something over his shoulder. The unmistakable ring of swordplay danced through the air. Turning towards the commotion, he grinned knowingly when he spied the two fighters battling it out on the training grounds. It appeared Tristan was besting Bors, yet again.

Bringing his focus back to Meg, he watched her stare at the tips of her boots, a slight burst of color staining her cheeks. She knew she had been caught staring at Tristan. Lowering his voice so that their conversation would not be overheard, he spoke frankly. "Meg, does he know?"

Raising her eyes from the ground, she stared at him in complete shock. _My Gods, am I that obvious,_ her mind screamed as she realized who Gawain spoke of. Her eyes darting from the man fighting across the courtyard and then back to the knight before her, she couldn't think of how to respond. _What will he do if I admit it?_

Unable to control the small smile that formed every time he watched her fidget, he repeated himself. "Does he?"

Taking a deep breath and returning her eyes to the ground, Meg thought over her past interactions with the scout. Upon meeting the man she had been slightly frightened by him and that had annoyed her to no end. She was not sure exactly when that annoyance had changed to affection, but it had. She was unsure of what to tell Gawain. One moment Tristan appeared to burn just as violently as she and the next he seemed cold and apathetic. _He was short with me upon his return,_ she thought dejected. Finally raising her eyes again, she shook her head slowly. _Tristan does not know and if he does, he surely does not care, _her inner voice taunted.

Nodding his head mockingly, Gawain smiled, not believing her for a second.

Rolling her eyes at his teasing, Meg made to step around him before he cut off her escape with apologies.

"While I will not deny the bleeding of my heart," he stated while clutching a hand to his chest to illustrate his pain. "Stop laughing, Meg. I am serious," he scolded as Meg pressed her lips together firmly, her eyes bright with smiles. "I will not deny my agony, but know that I find it a worthy sacrifice."

Lowering his hand and becoming serious, he hesitated for a moment at the realization of what he was about to do. "He's a good man, Meg. You deserve a bit of happiness."

She stared at him, her face a display of the conflicting emotions that now pulled at her mind and heart. As she opened her mouth slightly, Gawain tensed at the thought that she seemed to be making an effort to speak.

"Meg!"

Turning at her name being shrieked, they both saw that it was Cait who had put out the call. "I need to speak with you," Pausing, she looked to the blond knight before adding, "Now."

Narrowing his eyes at the interruption, Gawain turned back to Meg. He could tell she was torn and the fact made his anger soften. "Run along, little one."

Meg's eyes darted to his at the pet name, but then back to her sister. Balling her hands into fists, she waited on edge as Cait turned her back and walked in the direction of the tavern. Turning quickly, she grabbed his arm to steady herself as she raised on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Lowering her heels back to the stones, she blinked back the tears that now stung her eyes.

Smiling down at her, Gawain knew she had to go. He had to let her go. "Off you go. Before I change my mind and give them something to gossip about," he said with a wink.

Grinning, Meg turned to make her way towards the tavern, wiping away the few tears that had escaped. She had only taken a few steps when his voice stopped her once more. "Meg. Bring back my shirt, will you?"

Nodding quickly, she waved her good-byes before starting her trek again. Remembering why she was heading in that direction made her shoulders stiffen. _What does she want now?_

* * *

Standing a short distance from the bustling tavern, Cait watched as Meg walked towards her. The puffiness of her eyes made the fact that she has been crying obvious, yet she was smiling. "You alright," she questioned, hoping that the unruly knight had not been bothering her. At her sister's reassuring nod she gestured for her to walk in the direction of the laundry, knowing she was on her way back to work.

As they made their way down the large corridors, Cait decided to pres her luck. "What were you and Gawain talking about? You both looked very serious." After entering the now deserted laundry rooms, she shut the door behind them before continuing. "He didn't upset you did he?"

Leaning against the massive cutting table that took up the center of the room, Meg shook her head. Cait's meddling was beginning to grow tiresome and she was starting to lose her patience.

Sensing her sister's growing agitation, Cait decided this was no time for tip-toeing around subjects. Taking a deep breath in preparation and smiling affectionately, she began. "Meg, something wonderful has happened."

* * *

Making his way down the shadowy corridors of the knight's quarters, Tristan was looking forward to the familiar comforts and distractions that surely awaited him at the tavern. He had been in a foul mood since the day they had returned. He knew the Meg was the cause of his brooding and that had made matters worse. She was weak and he despised weakness. What troubled him more was the fact that the source of her weakness was he loyalty to Cait.

Nearing the place where the corridor broke into two paths, he heard the paint sound of footsteps making their way towards him. He hadn't expected to see Meg round the corner and her pale and shaken appearance made him pause. The half smile she gave as she too came to a halt was forced and failed to hide her distress. Something was going on.

Watching as her eyes skimmed the corridor for others before falling back to his, he felt a familiar rush of bitterness. He wanted to break her. Staring at her ashen face, he was consumed by the urge to take her under his hands and destroy. If he tried hard enough he considered the fact that he could make her shatter and use the pieces to pierce her intractable heart. Shatter her fear and weakness and that strong sense of allegiance and obedience she felt for her sister. He could defeat her with his hunger and passion.

As suddenly as the thought entered his mind it was overthrown by another. Meg would never break, not even for him. He knew then that was why he felt so drawn to her.

As she squirmed under his steely gaze, he noticed the small bundle of clothing she held in her tiny hands. Atop the pile sat a familiar garment. She was on her way to see Gawain. That was why she looked so nervous and antsy to be away from him. Nodding to the other man's shirt, he broke the now deafening silence. "You should tell him."

It took only a moment for Meg to realize what Tristan was implying. Opening her mouth to protest, she stopped as he took a slight step forward to halt her. "No more," he said, his grating voice echoing in the corridor around them.

Feeling the familiar sting of tears that had fallen far too often that day, Meg straightened her stance. Glaring at the indifferent man before her, she struggled to make the words come once more. "Th-there is m-m-more," she stuttered out, her voice cracking from lack of use and the surge of anger she was experiencing.

Brushing a stray braid from his eyes, Tristan looked down the passage, not wanting to see her. "Not for us," he growled lowly, lowering his eyes with the statement.

Biting her lip to still its trembling, Meg took small, deliberate steps until she was standing directly in front of him. He was blind and cruel and she wanted desperately to hate him. In that moment Tristan wondered what she would do if he kissed her then. Suddenly she dropped the bundle of clothing and pushing with all of her might, she shoved the scout from her path. She had been rejected by two men in one day and still had the mess with Cait to deal with. Smiling bitterly as she stormed towards her room, she thought on how much happier she would be after the night was over.

* * *

Wow! This chapter was a monster to write. I am so sorry that it took me longer than I had expected to update. I was really busy. On top of that I quit smoking for a few days. I started back up again. I am weak. It had really started to show itself in my writing at one point. Meg seemed snotty, Gawain turned into a whiny pansy and Tristan came off as sadistic and cocky. It was awful.

I had started writing this chapter with Meg and Gawain ending up together. I really thought that they would be good together and that Gawain could help Meg "heal". It just felt wrong for some reason. I guess I like Meg flawed. I was also scared that if I paired them that Tristan and Meg would have some horrible and tragic affair in the sequel. I couldn't do that to Gawain.

To the Tristan fans: I hope you are pleased ;)

To the Gawain fans: Sorry! Just remember that I will be doing a sequel and that means lots more of the growly one ^_^

To everyone: Thank you so much for the reviews and encouragement. Another reason this chapter took so long was because I was inspired to write a Tristan one-shot when I was half into it. I'd really like to hear what you guys think of that story as well.

-Until next time.


	12. Chapter 12

This chapter is dedicated to vickir for being there for me to commiserate with and for letyoursoultakeflight for giving me some awesome reviews. They gave me the kick in the butt that I needed to finish that and get it posted!

* * *

As Tristan sat alone at a table, removed from his fellow knights, he thought back over the events of the past hours. He had hoped that putting something into his stomach and cooling his heels with a drink would help to ease his restlessness, but the effort proved pointless. The ale seemed too bitter, the bread hardened. As he watched Vanora refill his mug once more he wondered if he himself had become too bitter, too hardened.

Meg had opened up to him again and again he had shunned her. She had stood before him vulnerable and exposed and he had shoved it all back in her face. He refused to even entertain the idea that she would make the mistake once more. The anguish that her eyes had revealed as she has spoken to him in that corridor had wreaked havoc on his senses. He shouldn't have cared at all.

Why she had chosen to put that sort of trust in him in the first place was what baffled him most. In the months they had known each other he had mocked her, bruised her, even held her at sword point.

With Meg, nothing was ever clear or easy. The only conclusion that he could come to was that things were the same for Meg as they were for him. There was no rational reason for the feelings, they just were. It wasn't something that could be excused, let alone restrained. He had known in the beginning that she would be trouble and yet he found himself unable to turn away completely.

As he had stepped out into the open air on his way to the tavern the sky had opened. Clearest blue had shifted to dusky grey. The peaceful twilight gave way to what would surely prove a tempestuous night. It seemed even the Gods shared in her stormy mood.

* * *

As the deluge subsided, morphing into the usual steady drizzle, Dagonet drained the contents of his mug before turning to survey his fellow tavern patrons. The downpour had kept all but the regulars indoors and the place was almost eerily quiet. On the far side of the place he noticed Tristan sat staring at the full mug of ale Vanora had placed in front of him some time ago. He appeared ruffled and agitated, which was very uncharacteristic. Nodding in the direction of the man, he turned to Lancelot for an explanation. "What's wrong with him?"

Reluctantly peeling his eyes from the ample amount of cleavage the new bar maid was putting on display as she refilled his ale, he glanced to the scout quickly. Turning his attention back to the older man before him, he smirked drunkenly before giving his reply. "Him? Hhmm. Where exactly would you like me to begin, Dag?"

Nodding kindly at the woman for filling his mug, Dagonet took a large gulp before shaking his head in disappointment. "Should have known better than to ask you."

Smiling wolfishly, Lancelot shrugged his disinterest. "Probably brooding over that mousy thing that does the wash again."

"Do you mean Meg," Dagonet asked, a bit surprised by the revelation. He would not have guessed her to be the type of woman to catch Tristan's eye. Then again if he really thought on it he wasn't sure exactly what sort of woman would.

Nodding in affirmation, Lancelot's attention was shortly grabbed by a new arrival in the tavern. Gawain was back from his patrol and was currently heading straight for the secluded table Tristan was sat at. Taking a large swig of his drink, Lancelot turned to Dagonet with the look of a mischievous child upon his face. "And here I thought tonight would turn out to be a bore!"

* * *

Striding deliberately across the wet stones of the tavern floor, Gawain shortly found himself standing only a few feet from an unconcerned Tristan. He only seemed to notice the other man's presence as the wobbly, wooden chair across from him was dragged across the floor and Gawain had sat down uninvited.

Not bothering to so much as glance in the other man's direction, he picked up the mug of warm ale and took a large gulp before sparing him a greeting. "Gawain."

"Tristan," was the mumbled reply as Vanora slammed another mug of ale onto the table in front of the blond knight.

Sipping the much needed drink slowly, he studied the other man in an attempt to determine his mood. Tristan was known for being easily irritated under the best of circumstances and he did not want to bring up such a touchy matter if the man was of a foul temper. His effort was in vain as the scout was as unreadable to him as always. Some people had the talent of gauging others, unfortunately he was not one of those people.

Draining the ale and taking a deep breath, Gawain decided that it would be best if he came out with it. The sooner the better. Running his hands through his hair he tried to think of how to even begin. After a moments consideration he elected to do it plainly and as straightforward as was possible. He would just ask.

"Do you love her?"

Pausing mid drink, Tristan silently returned his mug to the table that separated them. Swallowing loudly, he kept his eyes on the worn tankard as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

After watching the scout's cool contemplation, Gawain continued. "You know if I didn't know any better I'd think you were afr-," his statement cut short as Tristan raised his eyes to the man seated across from him.

For long moments he only stared as if he were trying to determine what the motives behind the question were. He didn't appear angry or even thoughtful and Gawain was starting to regret being so blunt. Then looking around the tavern as if he had just been asked about the weather, he finally replied. "She's different."

Nodding his head knowingly, the blond knight smiled. "That she is."

He was not sure if Tristan's reply had been a yes or no, but he knew that was as revealing of a reply as he should expect. Where Meg was concerned there had always been a certain degree of tension between the two of them and pressing the matter would likely turn ugly.

They sat for some time in a companionable silence before Galahad called Gawain away for whatever game of chance he had decided to challenge him to on this night. After rising from his chair, Gawain turned back to the scout. Narrowing his eyes and pushing down the small flickers of doubt he had begun to feel, he became very serious. "If you hurt her, Tristan, you're a dead man."

Staring at the younger man, it did not take long for Tristan to realize it was no idle threat. Despite all of Gawain's lighthearted ribbing over the years, he was brutal in his seriousness when the notion took him. Nodding his head in understanding, the scout spoke. "Fair enough."

Turning to make his way to the bar ,Gawain smiled with his added warning. "And watch out for the sister. She's like a wolf with a helpless pup."

Returning his attention back to his ale, Tristan waved his hand dismissively. He did not think Cait would pose any trouble, but when it came to Meg he was not so certain.

* * *

Rising from the table he and the other knights had congregated around, Galahad shook his head in annoyance. "You cheat, Lancelot. I swear it. No man could win that many games and it be any other way."

"What can I say, boys. I just have a talent for certain things," Lancelot bragged while gathering his winnings together lazily.

"Talent," balked Bors. "Try experience. He gambles more than anyone else in this damned fort!"

"Experience? I'd imagine that would come with age," Gawain bellowed as he took another swig of ale.

Signaling one of the passing serving girls, Lancelot motioned for her to refill his mug. "Watch it, Blondie," was the mumbled reply as he considered whether or not the girl or anyone else thought him old.

Turning to head for the bar, Galahad stopped short as Cait stepped into his path. As he opened his mouth to greet her he closed it again quickly once he noticed the mischievous light that now danced in her eyes. Knitting his brows together he waited for her to reveal the cause and was surely disappointed as she kissed his cheek and stepped around him. Seating herself on a bench next to Bors she began to scan the tavern, her eyes darting to the entrance regularly. Walking back to the table and coming to a stand at her side he cleared his throat and waited. It was only a matter of time before she cracked.

"Yes, can I help you," she cooed sweetly, failing in her attempt to appear innocent. Smoothing the wrinkles from her skirts she smiled at the men around her and gladly accepted the mug of ale that was set before her.

Pressing his palms onto the table in front of him, Galahad leaned down to her level. Just as he had suspected, she refused to make eye contact. She was ready to burst with something and it was something big. "Cait," he started, "out with it."

"Out with what, dearest? I'm sure I've no idea what you mean." The surface of the table had suddenly become completely fascinating.

Taking the mug from her grasp, Galahad smiled as she finally looked him in the eye. "Cait."

"Oh fine you big bully!" Snatching her drink back, Cait smiled uncontrollably. "I suppose you'll all find out soon enough anyhow."

"Find out what, luv" Bors questioned. Whatever secret Galahad's gal was hiding it was surely a good one judging by the grin that she wore.

Her eyes darted to Gawain momentarily. After pursing her lips together for a moment, she finally took a deep breath.

"Find out that someone has asked for Meg's hand," she said in the sort of sheepish voice that none of them had ever heard her use before.

Cait was unnerved by the hush that fell over the table with the utterance of her single sentence. Some became visibly tense while others seemed to find new interest in their mugs. One person in particular fumed and that person was her very own husband.

Spreading his fingers across the tabletop and pressing his lips into a firm line, he struggled to still his temper before speaking to her. "I assume you can only mean one person. Tell me Cait, what exactly did you tell the bastard? Or better yet, what did you tell Meg? How did she take your happy news?"

Cait had not missed the ice in his voice as he strangled out the word "happy".

"She took it as well as I had expected. Tears were shed, pottery was broken and she introduced me to a whole new bundle of wild hand gestures!" Snapping her head in Lancelot's direction, she did her best to ignore his muffled snickering. At further inspection she noticed everyone at their table, save Tristan and Galahad, wore some sort of amused look on their face. Looking back to Galahad, she tried to continue.

Tossing a long braid over her shoulder she let out a small yet uncontrolled laugh. Why was it that she felt on trial all of the sudden? Then in a clam and even voice, she began to speak. "She was not happy alright? I am not so selfish or daft to be oblivious to that. I may seem cruel to you in this moment, but all of this is for her own good. I can't watch her go through life silent and alone any longer. This may be her only chance at a life, a family."

Taking a small sip of her drink, Cait cleared her throat and went on. "I've explained all of this to her. It took a bit of prodding and even a bit of begging, but I think she may have begun to see reason."

"You don't mean that she is actually considering accepting that fool's offer do you," Galahad blurted in his surprise. Both Tristan and Gawain rising from their seats.

Watching the reactions of the the knights to her news was making her more uncomfortable by the second. At a familiar grunt of irritation that she knew belonged to her husband she remembered that he has asked her a question. "I don't know. I was able to convince her to at least hear me out. She should be here already actually," Cait replied as she looked around the tavern and was let down by her sister's absence. "I also asked Griffin to meet us. I think if she at least spent some time with him she would see that he isn't as awful as she has it in her head."

At this revelation all the knight's turned their attention to Galahad. In the time that they had know the man he had never appeared to have a problem voicing his anger or disappointment, but now he stood silent. All he could do was stare at his wife is utter disbelief. Opening his mouth to speak he was cut off as the scrape of Lancelot's chair broke the tension held in the air.

Swaying slightly, he nodded towards the tavern's entrance and slurred, " Here comes our little laundress now."

* * *

As Meg made her way slowly to the table that her sister and the knights were gathered around she struggled to remain calm. By the uncomfortable shift in their attention and her sister's look of worry she guessed that Cait had told them of Griffin's proposal. Approaching the small party, she could feel Tristan's eyes on her. Eyes that burned with something she could not discern and she had to focus on not meeting his gaze. She couldn't look at him, not now. One look from him and she was certain that her mask of confidence would be shattered.

As she came to a halt at the edge of the table Tristan took in her appearance. Her hair no longer held in the messy bun or twin braids that he was accustomed to seeing, it hung long and low to her waist and the sight made his breath hitch in his chest. She had the look of something that was untamed and willful, but at the same time a hint of the scared little rabbit he knew her to be lay just below the surface. It was as she accepted a kiss on the cheek in greeting from her sister that he noticed she wore the ribbon around her throat. That shade of green that brought out the bits of it in her eyes. That was when it occurred the him that this meeting would surely end badly. He was not the only person in the fort that knew where the ribbon had come from.

Shoving himself between Galahad and Cait, Lancelot made his way around the table steadily. Placing his newly filled mug into Meg's hands he cursed lowly as he sloshed some of its contents over her wrist. Smiling apologetically, he leaned in so that only she could hear the words he spoke. "Liquid courage, luv. You shall need it more than I."

Puzzled, Meg smiled at Lancelot's odd present and accepted it with a small nod. As he watched her take a drink happily she remembered what it felt like to be a child that was given a treat by a doting adult.

Taking another small sip, she turned and looked to Cait in anticipation. She knew that with the matter at hand there would be no chance of her enjoying a drink with good company before her sister began the job of nagging her again. It was then that she noticed the look of horror on Galahad's face as he glanced to the entrance. Looking over her shoulder it was not hard to find the source. Griffin stood across the room looking around the place for whomever it was he was here to see. Unfortunately Meg could only guess who.

As Gawain watched the woodsman scan the taverns patrons in search of his target he felt a sudden surge of pity for Meg. Looking to the woman he noticed that she had turned her attention back to the ale that Lancelot had given her and was doing her best to drain its contents. Closing the gap between them, Gawain snatched the mug from her grasp. The look she gave him was pleading. She was scared. Glancing over his shoulder at Griffin's speedy approach he handed the ale back to her with a soft smile and a warning. "Slow down, little one."

Setting the mug down on the table in front of her, Meg took a deep breath in preparation. Looking to her right she finally let her eyes come to rest on Tristan. His look was severe and followed the path of the man that approached the table. She knew that her actions tonight would seal her fate and determine her future. The thought of Tristan not being apart of that future made her chest feel tight and ready to burst. Before the nature of the thought could sink in, Griffin was there and politeness forced her to turn her attention to the man behind her that was currently greeting those gathered at the table.

As the typical formalities ended the woodsman's eyes came to rest on Meg. She watched and held her breath as he nodded in greeting and smiled a hello. Then turning to Cait he began to speak.

"Glad you convinced her to come Cait. I've been looking forward to this all day." Looking back to Meg he smiled and continued to speak to her sister. "And doesn't she look lovely too! She would make any man a fine bride."

It was just then that he noticed the flash of green at her throat. At the sight his jaw clenched for a moment and Meg was not the only one to take notice of it. Nodding to the small ornament his voice changed slightly. "Cept for that thing. I don't think the color suits her and the way she wears it isn't proper. A bit too flashy for someone of her class."

Before any of the others could think to react to the man's rude comment, Tristan had moved around the table. Placing himself between the woodsman and Meg he stood quiet for a moment and watched with satisfaction as the tense silence made the other man fidget uncomfortably. It wasn't until he was certain that Griffin was giving him his full attention that he spoke. His tone was calm and cool yet it left no room for arguments. "She doesn't speak. That doesn't mean she can't hear."

As Griffin began to speak his voice came out a bit too strangled and high pitched. Clearing his throat he tore his eyes from the narrowed gaze of the scout and spoke to Cait. "I think we should speak of our private matters in private. Don't you?"

While every person present waited for Cait's reply, once more the quiet rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. With a curse mumbled under his breath, Tristan turned and placed his mug on the worn table. Without so much as a glance in Meg's direction, he turned and strode out into the now steady drizzle.

For a moment the woman felt hesitant. She wasn't exactly sure how to react to what had just happened. Shaking the feeling and nodding her head in agreement, Cait began to look around the tavern and quickly spotted an empty table in one of the back corners that was removed from the main flow of bodies. "How about we make our way in that direction." Looking to Meg, she nodded her head towards the table she spoke of.

Meg heard her. From her peripheral vision she had even noticed the guiding nod, only something in her refused to respond. All she had the will to do was stare at the empty doorway through which the scout had exited.

Watching the scene was almost painful for Galahad. He was convinced that at any moment his sister in-law would swoon as women seemed prone to do in these types of situations. Lancelot on the other hand was convinced that giving her his ale had been a mistake. He felt that he could use a drink right about now and by the look on the girl's face she had most likely drank too quickly and would be sick at any moment.

"Meg, let's go then."

Those were the words that finally brought her back to the present. _He_ had spoke them. _He_ had actually had the nerve to address her as if he had that right. Ignoring the source of those words, Meg turned not to Griffin, but to Gawain. She knew that of all those present he was the only one who could possibly ground her in this moment. He was the only one that could understand.

She was not certain of exactly what she expected to see once her attention was focused on the blonde knight. Pity perhaps, maybe even sadness. That seemed to be how most looked at her anymore. Neither of those were what she was met with. Instead of those things, she found strength. Why he was even smiling at her! With a slight nod of his head and a wink he gave her leave. In that moment Meg knew that was what she had been waiting for. She did not need his permission so much as his acceptance.

"Meg, are you alright? Come along then," Cait stammered, a small twinge of panic making her voice seem too loud and too uppity.

Finally turning her attention to her older sister, Meg opened her mouth slightly. Hesitating, she glanced to Gawain once more for courage. Meeting Cait's eyes made what she was about to do all the more difficult. Taking a deep breath, she was finally able to look at her head on. Opening her mouth once more, she spoke to her sister for the first time since the fevers and their father's death. She spoke one word. "N-no."

Cait was only able to stand there dumbstruck after the fact that her sister had spoken to her registered. As the meaning of those words hit her, she found herself only able to repeat them in a questioning tone. "No?"

Nodding her head as fresh tears began to well up in her eyes, Meg repeated the words more clearly the second time. "No." Then gathering her skirts she shoved past a gaping Lancelot in her haste to exit the tavern. After clearing the threshold she broke into a run. She has no idea where Tristan had gone, she had no idea what she would do once she found him. All she knew was that finding him was something she had to do.

After Meg's sudden flight it was Griffin who was the first to speak. "A sad pair" was what he had declared in reference to the recently departed woman and the scout she seemed determined to pursue. It was not until he was being picked up off the floor, bleeding and dazed that he realized those may have been the wrong choice of words to use in the presence of Gawain.

It took a moment for the actuality of what was happening to sink in for Cait. Her little sister had spoken. She had not only spoken, but she had also turned down a perfectly good marriage proposal. It also seemed that the reasons for her doing so were directly related to Arthur's scout. It did not take long for her to stomp off in the direction Meg had taken, in search of her sister.

It did not take long for Galahad and Gawain to follow suit.

* * *

BIG apologizes for not updating sooner!

Those of you from Pointy and Facebook and the like already know why. Those of you that don't...I am going through a divorce right now. Things have been chaotic for months! I'm actually moving in two weeks. I've been working on getting my GED. I've had some family emergencies. All kinda of drama.

I hate that it took me this long to get this up. As I have said before, though, I am not going to abandon this! I will keep it up until it is done and I don't care how long that takes me.

To those that have voted in the polls, thanks! It looks like most think that writing a sequel with Cait and Meg still involved is the way to go. I've got a rough idea of where I want to go with it. I did decide to go ahead with the Woad idea. I am posting another poll in regards to that.

Hopefully it won't take me months to update again. To those sticking it out, reading and reviewing- I 3 you guys and thank you so much. I really appreciate it! It means alot.


	13. An Update

**01-05-2011: **I'm not sure if anyone is still out there or if any of you still give a fig about this story. My sincerest apologies for the lack of updates! A small handful of you are friends of mine of Facebook and the like and I know that you're all clued in, but for those of you that aren't, here is my explanation:

Divorce. That is my big excuse. I've been starting my life over and that has left no time at all for writing. Now that things in my life are starting to fall into place, I hope to change that.

I have every intention of finishing this story! I am just not going to make any promises as to when that will be accomplished. I still have my notes laying around and I still have an idea in my head of where I want to take this. I even still have thoughts of a sequel floating around in there. I am just not sure where to begin.

Looking back over this story, I sometimes find myself appalled! It had been years since I had written anything at all and as you go from one chapter to the next, you do see an improvement. I go back and see a few plot holes, scenes that were sped through, grammatical errors and things of that nature. I also wonder how many people have read the first chapter and given up all hope because it is so horrid lol! I am still debating on if I would like to go back and repair all of that. I think that it could make the story so much better, but at the same time I sort of like seeing how I've improved.

Once I get my head clear and go over my notes, I will continue writing! I just need any of you that are still out there to answer a few questions for me:

**1.** Should I re-edit the entire story before continuing or leave things be?

**2.** Did I really goof up in pairing Meg with Tristan?

**3.** Is anyone even still reading this!

I can't wait to hear everyone's advice and I really look forward to working with these characters again ^_^

-Sera Femme


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